7 


, 


SACRIFICE; 


OR, 


THE  LIVING  DEAD 


S.     G- IR  IE  IE  IST  , 

EDITOR  OF  THE   COLUS^  SUN. 


COLUSA  : 
ADDIXGTOX    &    G  R  E  E  x . 

1882. 


Gin<. 


Entered  according  to  Act  of  Congress,  in  the  year  1882,  by 

WILL  S.  GREEN, 
In  the  Office  of  the  Librarian  of  Congress,  at  Washington. 


Bancroft 


SACRIFICE 


OR, 


THE  LIVING  DEAD. 


CHAPTER    I, 


THE  PEDDLEK. 
O44  j^ 

^f       C^j^HIS  was  to  have  been  our  wedding  day,  but  still 

£?         (^TO   ^ugk  lingers,  under  one  pretext  or  another,  on  the 

.        ^®^  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea.     Could  anything  in  human 

O         (jy»S    form,  but  a   monk,  an  Arab,  or  a  man   gone  wild 

^*     after  antiquities,  live  there,   I   should  suspect  the 

existence  of  a  rival,  notwithstanding  the  interesting  letters 

\        he  writes  so  frequently.     Why,  I  should  not  be  surprised 

Q        were   he  willing  to  exchange   even   me   for  some  petrified 

O        Sodomite,    could    one   be   found  in   any  of  the   caves    he 

0.         describes  so  vividly." 

Q  At  this  last  conceit  Miriam  Howard  smiled,  for  she  had 

never  doubted  for  a  moment  the  fidelity  of  her  lover  who 
had  been  "doing"  the  old  world  for  the  last  three  years. 
And,  as  girls  will  do  when  they  think  of  the  possibility  of  a 
rival,  even  a  petrified  one,  she  cast  her  eyes  upon  the  face  of 
the  mirror  which  extended  from  floor  to  ceiling  before  her. 
The  image  she  beheld  therein  would  have  reassured  one  far 
more  suspicious  than  she.  A  lovely,  earnest-looking  face 
looked  forth  upon  her — earnest  in  spite  of  the  smile  which 
now  illumined  it.  Its  delicate  contour  was  shaded  by  the 
soft,  waving  hair  of  raven  hue,  whose  heavy  masses,  fas- 


4  SACRIFICE. 

tened  by  a  coral  comb,  were  coiled  and  twisted  in  the  latest 
style  about  her  beautifully-formed  head.  Calm,  shining 
eyes  of  a  dark,  strange  gray,  which  would  seem  to  hide 
within  their  depths  the  capabilities  of  a  high  and  holy 
resolve.  The  high,  broad  forehead,  and  the  clear,  cameo- 
like  features,  while  indicating  talents  of  no  mean  order,  with 
courage  and  decision  of  character,  also  signified  the  loving, 
true-hearted  woman;  and,  in  the  little,  well-developed  figure, 
slightly  above  medium  height,  both  grace  and  dignity  were 
combined.  While  Miriam,  though  not  vain,  was  gazing  upon 
this  pleasing  picture,  she  suddenly  gave  vent  to  a  startled 
cry,  for,  reflected  in  the  glass  before  her,  she  saw  another 
figure,  far  different  from  her  own.  Standing  in  the  drawing- 
room  door,  behind  her,  was  a  queer-looking  old  man,  carry- 
ing on  his  shoulders  a  small  pack,  who,  as  she  turned  hastily 
around,  advanced,  bowing  obsequiously  with  hat  in  hand,  a 
few  steps  towards  her. 

Miriam,  though  neither  nervous  nor  timid,  felt  a  vague 
terror  seize  her  at  the  unexpected  appearance  of  this  man. 
However,  it  was  but  a  moment  until  she  regained  her  usual 
presence  of  mind,  when  she  indignantly  demanded : 

"  Why,  sir,  do  you  presume  to  enter  this  house  or  this 
room  unannounced  ?  " 

"Pardon  me,  Mees;  but  I  has  some peautiful  dings  vhich 
I  vould  likes  to  shows  you."  And  without  appearing  to 
notice  Miriam's  impatient  movement,  he  took  from  his 
shoulders  ids  pack  and  proceeded  to  open  it. 

"Do  not  take  the  trouble,"  she  coldly  said;  "I  do  not 
care  to  buy." 

"  Oh,  it  ish  nodroubles  in  de  vorld,  Mees,"  he  replied,  in 
the  blandest  of  tones.  "If  I  no  shows  mine  goots  I  no 
sells  clem." 

"  But  I  want  none  of  your  goods,  and  you  need  not 
unpack  them  here,"  returned  Miriam,  an  angry  sparkle  com- 
ing to  her  eyes. 

"  I  hafe  travels  long  ways,  Mees,  mit  goods  for  all  kind 
beeples,  de  rich  an'  de  boor;"  and  all  this  while  he  continued 


THE  PEDDLER.  5 

unfastening  his  pack.  ' '  You  sees,  I  dells  you  in  de  most  con- 
fidence, none  dese  goots  ever  sees  de  Custom  House;  dere- 
fore,  I  sells  de  rich  young  ladee,  like  you,  Mees,  de  most 
peautiful  goots — oh,  so  scheap !  " 

"Shall  I  have  to  inform  you  again  that  neither  you  nor 
your  goods  are  wanted,  and  that  you  had  better  be  moving 
on?" 

"It  ish  no  droubles  in  de  vorld,  Mees,  to  show  mine 
goots — you  needs  not  to  minds  de  droubles  to  me,  it  ish 
mine  beesness.  I  sells  every  young  ladee  goots,  I  dells  you. 
I  never  mees  one  in  great  many  years.  Now,  you  sees,  I 
vill  shows  you  de  goots,  and  you  can  fix  de  brice  yourselfs." 

All  this  while  Miriam  had  not  caught  the  glance  of  the 
peddler's  eyes,  for  he  had  kept  them  sedulously  bent  upon 
his  pack;  but  she  could  see  that  the  unwelcome  intruder  was 
diminutive  in  size,  and  only  differed  from  the  type  of  the 
usual  "  Jew  peddler"  in  that  his  hair  was  long,  and  almost 
white,  while  his  whiskers,  mingled  with  gray,  reached  nearly 
to  his  waist. 

"  De  old  man  hafe  von  hard  dimes,  Mees,"  he  continued, 
"mitvon  schildrens  to  feed.  I  leaves  de  schildrens  avay 
over  de  big  vater.  You  hafe  read  about  de  City  of  Smyrna, 
Mees,  an'  all  de  curious  beeples  dere  ?  Yell,  mine  home  is 
dere.  You  sees,"  and  pulling  up  a  chair,  he  sat  down  in  the 
most  confidential  manner,  "you  sees,  I  sells  mine  goots— a 
leetle  bit  brofit  on  von — a  leetle  bit  brofit  on  de  oder — and 
de  brofit  feeds  de  schildrens.  But  here  ish  von  diamond 
ring.  Look ! "  and  he  held  it  up,  making  it  to  glitter  and 
sparkle  in  the  sun.  "De  duty  on  dat  ring  vould  be  five 
hundred  dollar — but  I  dells  you,  Mees,  he  no  sees  de  officer. 
You  can  fix  de  brice  and  dakes  him." 

"  I  tell  you,"  said  Miriam,  more  emphatically  than  ever, 
"I  want  none  of  your  paste  diamonds.  If  you  are  poor, 
take  this  and  go ! "  With  this  she  offered  him  some  money, 
which  he  did  noiappear  to  notice,  but  continued  displaying 
the  contents  of  his  pack  to  her  astonished  gaze. 


D  SACBIFICE. 

"Here  be  brecious  stone  from  all  barts  of  de  vorld.  Fix 
your  brice,  Mees,  and  dakes  any  of  dem  you  likes.  You 
bays  me  no  moneys  till  you  hafe  de  jeweler's  vord  dat  dey 
be  goot.  You  dakes  any  of  dem,  and  in  two,  tree  days  I 
comes  back — den  you  bays  me.  I  dells  you  I  no  scheat  de 
young  ladee." 

Miriam  Howard  had  been  from  infancy  accustomed  to  all 
that  wealth  could  procure,  but  the  array  of  gems  in  the  ped- 
dler's casket  dazzled  even  her  vision.  Never,  even  in 
dreams,  had  fancy  pictured  such  a  brilliant  sight.  Dia- 
monds, which  seemed  to  have  caught  and  imprisoned  the 
most  dazzling  rays  of  the  noonday  sun;  pearls,  chaste  and 
lovely  in  their  milky  sheen;  rubies,  emeralds,  topazes, 
sapphires,  either  of  which  might  have  ransomed  a  king,  lay 
sparkling  on  their  velvet  cushions.  Miriam  could  almost 
have  imagined  that  the  veritable  owner  of  Aladdin's  lamp 
was  now  before  her.  In  spite  of  herself  her  interest  began 
to  grow;  but  as  she  had  adopted  the  indignant  role  at  first, 
her  pride  forbade  her  giving  the  slightest  token  thereof. 

"  You  gave  me  to  understand,"  she  said,  "that  you  were 
very  poor,  and  almost  appealed  to  my  charity.  Now,  you 
would  have  me  believe  that  the  miserable  trash  you  have  in 
your  box  is  worth  hundreds  of  thousands  of  dollars.  I  will 
call  a  servant,  and  have  you  put  out." 

"  Ah,  I  see  de  ladee  cares  not  for  such  trash  as  diamonds, 
an' rubies,  an' pearls!  But  I  trades  mit  all  de  ladees.  De 
goots  is  very  valuable,  but  de  brofit  is  so  small,  as  keeps 
me  all  de  dimes  very  boor.  I  pays  von  pig  brice,  an'  sells 
for  von  small  brice.  Now  here  ish  von  little  ring — maybes 
you  would  not  pick  him  up  in  de  street;  but,  for  all  dat,  I 
bay  five  hundred  dollar  for  dat  ring.  It  is  von  serpent;  he 
go  twice  'round  de  finger.  De  stone  in  de  eyes  ish  like  no 
odder  stone  in  de  world." 

"You  must  take  me  for  an  idiot!"  sharply  exclaimed 
Miriam. 

"  No,  Mees,  bardon;  but  I  dinks  de  ladee  very  smart.  I's 
been  selling  dese  kind  goots,  since  long  dime  before  de 


THE  PEDDLEB.  7 

Mees  was  born,  and  I  sells  him  to  great  many  different 
beeples.  You  sees,  maybes,  I  be  von  big  idiot  mineselfs. 
Somedimes  de  trader  dakes  de  fancy,  and  somedimes  de 
customer  dakes  him.  Now  I  buys  dis  leetle  drinket  at  von 
pig  brice.  Shall  I  dells  you  'bout  him  ?  " 

"You  need  not  mind  going  to  that  trouble,"  answered 
Miriam. 

"Veil,  you  sees,"  continued  the  peddler,  in  voice  and 
manner,  as  though  he  had  been  invited  to  proceed  with  his 
story,  ' '  you  sees,  I  vos  von  day  valking  'round  mit  de  shores 
of  de  Dead  Sea—" 

"The  Dead  Sea!"  interrupted  Miriam  in  spite  of  herself; 
but  the  peddler,  paying  no  attention  to  her  interruption, 
continued: 

"  Yhen  who  vould  I  meets,  but  a  young  Calif ornian  who — " 

"  Young  Calif  ornian !"  ejaculated  Miriam;  but  again  the 
peddler  proceeded  without  in  any  manner  noticing  her 
agitation : 

"Vas  so  crazy  mit  de  idea  dat  he  finds  somedings  so 
vonderful  'bout  de  Dead  Sea.  Vy,  I  dells  you,  Mees,  dat 
young  mans  know  every  holes  and  caverns  'round  dat  blace 
as  veil  as  de  ladee  knows  dis  house.  Dis  young  mans  an' 
me  great  frients.  I  lofe  dat  young  mans." 

And  here,  for  the  first  time,  the  peddler  gave  evidence  of 
emotion,  and  laughed;  but  it  was  a  dry,  hollow  laugh,  and, 
as  Miriam  heard  it,  that  vague  terror  returned,  and  she 
shuddered  from  head  to  foot.  But  she  was  interested. 

"  Von  days  I  com  'round  mit  de  edge  of  de  vaters,  an'  I 
finds  de  young  mans  just  come  out  von  pig  holes  in  de  rock 
— von  cavern,  you  calls  him,  and  he  hafe  in  his  hands  dis 
queer-looking  ring.  Just  den  a  band  of  wild  Arabs,  dey 
com  up  an'  capture  him,  an'  say  dey  no  let  him  go  till  he 
bays  von  ransom  of  five  hundred  dollars .  Veil,  you  sees,  I 
comes  along  in  goot  dime.  De  Arab  chief  he  knows  me,  an' 
I  dells  him  I  bays  de  ransom;  an'  de  young  mans,  I  dells  him 
he  must  give  me  de  jewel.  He  say  he  no  gife  dat  to  any 
von,  but  a  frient,  and  he  hope  von  days  to  get  him  back. 


8  SACRIFICE. 

So  you  sees,  Mees,  I  hafe  von  customer  for  dat.  Veil,  dis 
young  mans,  Hugh  vas  his  names — " 

"Hugh  !"  exclaimed  Miriam,  so  excitedly  that  this  time 
the  peddler  was  obliged  to  notice  her.  "Did  you  say  his 
name  was  Hugh  ?  " 

"Hugh,  Mees;  it  vas  Hugh.  Nodings  so  very  strange  in 
dat.  I  meets  many  Hughs  in  dis  country.  Veil,  Hugh,  he 
gife  me  de  rings,  an'  I  bays  de  ransom.  So  you  sees,  Mees, 
de  trader  bays  somedimes  von  very  high  brice  for  de  goots. 
But  de  ladee  vill  not  care  'bout  dis,  sol  puts  him  avay." 

1 '  But  I  do  care  about  it ! "  said  Miriam,  quickly.  Let  me 
see  it!  What  do  you  ask  for  it?" 

"  De  ladee  do  not  care  to  hafe  dis  ring  at  de  brice  I  bays 
for  him,"  and  he  made  a  motion  as  though  to  return  it  to  its 
place.  "I  sells  him  to  some  rich  old  shentlemans  vat  likes 
him  'cause  him  old — or  I  makes  dat  crazy  frient  of  mine  bays 
me  von  pig  brofit.  I  suits  de  ladee  in  some  odder  dings." 

Miriam  had  advanced  rapidly  to  his  side,  and  in  her 
excitement  had  unconsciously  laid  her  hand  on  his  shoulder 
as  he  leaned  over  his  pack.  Kaising  his  head,  his  eyes,  for 
the  first  time,  met  hers.  Black  and  piercing,  they  shone  out 
from  under  his  grizzled  brows,  as  though  they  would  search 
her  soul  to  its  very  depths.  Again  that  strange,  magnetic 
thrill  went  through  her  being,  and,  hastily  dropping  her 
hand,  she  recoiled  in  almost  fear  from  his  side.  Again 
came  that  dry,  hollow  laugh. 

"  What  was  this  young  man's  name  of  whom  you  had  the 
ring  ?  "  asked  Miriam,  when  she  had  recovered  herself. 

"  I  dells  you,  it  vas  Hugh — I  beliefs  I  forgets  his  odder 
names." 

"  You  trifle  with  me,  man;   you  have  not  forgotten!  " 

"I  never  in  all  mine  lifes  drifle  mit  de  ladees.  I  dells 
you.  He  vas  very  dall — more  as  six  feet  high,  an'  weigh 
more  as  two  hundred  bound.  He  very  handsorna  an'  he  very 
brave.  He  fight  de  devil,  an'  gife  him  von  extra  pitchfork." 

"That's  he! "  exclaimed  Miriam. 


THE   PEDDLER.  9 

"Dat's  who?"  asked  the  peddler.  "  Hafe  de  Mees  von 
brodder  dere  ?  " 

"  No,  sir  peddler,"  with  an  unconscious  pride  in  her  tone, 
"  but  I  have  a  lover  there,  and  you,  I  am  certain,  have  seen 
him." 

"  Oh,  de  sorrow  of  vaiting  ven  dere  is  no  return!"  said  he 
in  a  tone  half  soliloquy  and  half  addressed  to  Miriam. 

"  By  what  authority,  sir,  do  you  prophecy  that  one  so 
noble  as  Hugh  Ashby  will  prove  false  to  his  plighted  vow  ?  " 
demanded  Miriam,  indignantly. 

"Me!  I  bees  no  brophet,  Mees.  Dat  ish  not  mine  bees- 
ness.  I  sells  de  ladees  rare  jewels  for  von  small  brofit. 

"I  must  have  that  ring,"  said  Miriam,  as  the  peddler 
seemed  about  to  close  his  box.  "  What  do  you  ask  for  it?" 

11  Vhich  von  ?     De  diamonds?  " 

11  No,  no!"  she  emphatically  answered.  "You  know 
which  one  I  mean.  I  want  the  serpent  ring." 

"I  dells  you,  you  set  de  brice,  an'  dakes  anydings  I  got. 
I  dells  you  de  cost  of  dis  an'  leaves  de  rest  to  you." 

"But  tell  me  the  name  of  this  young  Californian,  and  I 
will  pay  double  for  the  ring." 

"Ltfdee,  do  you  dinks  you  knows  your  lover,  if  vou  sees 
him?" 

"Know  him?  Of  course,  I  would!  What  an  absurd 
question!"  .';-* 

"  Ish  you  as  brave  as  your  lover  ?  " 

"  I  fear  not.     But  why  ask  that  now  ?  " 

"  Yill  de  ladee  dare  to  look  closely  into  de  eyes  of  de  ser- 
pent ring  ?  " 

"Dare!  Of  course,  I  will!  AVhat  is  there  so  terrible 
about  that  ?  " 

"  Dat  ish  more  as  can  dells  now.  You  vill  look  steadily 
into  de  bright  eyes,  an'  dells  me  vhat  you  sees  ?  " 

"I  will,"  said  Miriam. 

Then  slipping  the  ring  on  the  little  finger  of  the  right 
hand,  he  stepped  to  the  light,  requesting  Miriam  to  follow. 


10  SACKIFICE. 

As  he  stood  before  the  open  window  with  the  brilliant  sun- 
light streaming  in  upon  him,  and  the  hand  extended,  upon 
which  coiled  and  sparkled  the  serpent  ring,  he  seemed  to 
Miriam's  excited  imagination  no  longer  the  little  old  "  Jew 
peddler,"  but  rather  some  mysterious  being  who  was  to 
exercise  some  unknown  influence  over  the  lives  of  herself 
and  lover.  Eagerly  she  followed,  and  was  stooping  over  the 
ring.  As  she  gazed,  it  seemed  gradually  to  assume  the  pro- 
portions of  the  real  living  reptile  which  it  represented.  The 
head,  erect,  seemed  to  move  with  a  slow,  vibratory  motion, 
which  made  her  dizzy  as  she  beheld  it.  The  forked  tongue 
darted  in  and  out  with  lightning-like  rapidity,  while  the  eyes 
seemed  to  emit  flashes  of  blinding  light,  before  which  all 
else  grew  pale  and  darkened.  Everything  faded  from 
Miriam's  sight  but  those  wondrous  eyes,  on  which  a  picture 
rose  and  grew.  Faintly,  and  as  from  a  distance,  she  heard 
the  peddler's  voice,  commanding,  "  Tell  me  what  you  see!  " 
Under  the  influence  of  this  powerful  spell,  she  could  but 
obey.  Her  voice,  low  and  broken  at  first,  gradually  grew 
louder  and  more  agitated  as  the  picture  was  unfolded  to  her 
view. 

"  I  behold  a  scene  of  desolation — utter  desolation!  Bar- 
ren mountains  and  blackened  rocks  encompass  a  still,  un- 
natural-looking sea.  'Tis  night!  A  man  walks  alone  on  this 
desolate  shore.  Now  I  see  his  face  more  clearly.  'Tis 
Hugh — Hugh  Ashby!  In  his  face  shines  the  look  of  a  reso- 
lution which  can  be  born  alone  of  God.  He  stops  and 
gazes  anxiously  over  the  sea,  as  though  in  expectation. 
Now  the  waters  of  this  dreary,  silent  lake  are  disturbed,  and 
move  with  a  heavy,  undulating  swell,  as  though  some  mon- 
ster of  the  deep  was  striving  to  rise  to  its  surface.  And  now 
such  a  beautiful,  phosphorescent  light  illumines  the  bosom 
of  the  sea.  The  waters  divide,  and  a  magnificent  city  arises 
from  their  midst.  This  must  be  the  object  of  Hugh's  expec- 
tation, for  he  stands  with  hands  and  eyes  raised  heaven- 
ward— like  a  priest  at  the  altar  of  sacrifice— as  though  striv- 
ing to  appease  the  anger  of  an  insulted  God.  A  beautiful, 


THE   PEDDLER.  11 

sad-looking  woman  conies  to  meet  him,  and  hand  in  hand 
they  walk  the  streets  of  this  city,  which  seems  so  full  of  life, 
light  and  gayety.  Hugh  takes  from  his  bosom  a  picture  and 
presses  it  to  his  lips !  It  is  mine  {  I  feel  that  it  is  mine !  He 
is  true—  still  true  to  me !  My  God !  What  is  this  I  see  ? 
Again  the  waters  are  disturbed.  The  city  begins  to  sink; 
the  dark,  cruel-looking  waters  roll  in  upon  it,  and  Hugh  and 
the  beautiful  woman,  looking  so  like  martyrs.  O  merciful 
God!  Spare  them!"  And  Miriam  fell  senseless  to  the 

floor. 

*•#;<•'#>•,#-,*.* 

When  Mrs.  Howard  entered  the  room,  she  found  her 
daughter  Miriam  lying  on  the  floor  insensible.  The  house 
was  soon  in  confusion;  restoratives  were  applied,  and  in  a 
few  moments  she  had  begun  to  show  signs  of  returning  con- 
sciousness. Her  first  words  were : 

"Where  is  he?" 

"  Where  is  who,  my  child  ?  "  asked  her  mother.  "  There- 
has  been  no  one  here." 

"Then  have  I  been  dreaming?  " 

When  Miriam  had  recovered  her  strength,  she  made  dili- 
gent inquiries  of  the  girl  whose  business  it  was  to  answer 
the  bell,  and  of  all  the  servants  and  other  persons  about 
the  house,  but  no  one  had  seen  anything  of  her  peddler. 
Yet  she  could  not  persuade  herself  that  it  was  all  a  dream. 


CHAPTER   II. 


THE  SEARCH  —  THE  LETTER. 


AMES  HOWABD,  after  thirty  years  spent  in  trade, 
found  himself,  at  the  age  of  fifty,  possessed  of  a  very 
large  fortune,  and  concluded  to  retire  from  active 
Y>  business  life  and  pass  the  remainder  of  his  days  in  the 
bosom  of  his  family.  With  this  idea  in  view,  he  had 
purchased  a  small  farm  on  the  road  leading  from  San 
-Jose  to  Santa  Clara,  commonly  called  the  "  Alameda,"  and 
had  erected  thereon  a  magnificent  residence.  His  family 
consisted  of  his  wife  and  two  children,  Henry  and  Miriam. 
He  was  proud  of  his  children,  and  well  he  might  have  been; 
for  his  son,  after  graduating  with  the  highest  honors  at  Har- 
vard, had  returned  home  free  from  the  vices  which  too  often 
accompany  youth,  talent  and  wealth.  Miriam  had  stood 
first  in  almost  every  department  in  the  very  excellent  Col- 
lege of  Notre  Dame,  San  Jose,  and  even  after  her  gradua- 
tion spent  much  of  her  time  with  the  good  Sisters,  whom 
.she  loved  with  a  love  almost  equalling  that  which  she  bore 
for  her  mother.  With  the  approval  of  her  parents,  Miriam 
had,  some  three  years  before  the  opening  of  our  story,  given 
her  heart  and  promised  her  hand  to  Hugh  Ashby,  who  had 
immediately  after  set  out  for  the  Old  World.  He  had  ex- 
pected to  be  home  at  least  six  months  before  the  time  ap- 
pointed for  their  marriage;  but,  as  we  have  seen,  he  had  not 
yet  arrived.  He  was  busy,  he  wrote,  in  making  some  inter- 
esting examinations  of  pre-historic  cities,  and  he  would  soon 
return.  The  postponement  of  the  nuptials  had  been  wil- 
lingly acceded  to  by  Miriam,  as  she  did  not  wish  to  inter- 
rupt him  in  a  work  in  which  he  took  so  great  an  interest. 

Thus  matters  stood,  when  Miriam's  meditations  were  so 
unceremoniously  disturbed  by  the  abrupt  entrance  of  the 
peddler.  Miriam,  who  had  never  yet  kept  a  secret  from  her 


THE  SEARCH — THE  LETTER.  1{£ 

mother,  described  to  her  the  whole  scene.  Mrs.  Howard 
expressed  the  opinion  that  over-anxiety  had  caused  all  this 
to  be  presented  to  her  mind  in  a  dream. 

"  But,"  said  Miriam,  "  I  was  not  anxious,  and  was  never 
in  a  better  humor  with  myself  and  the  whole  world.  I  was, 
in  fact,  just  laughing  at  the  idea  of  having  a  petrified  rival." 

Miriam  was  anxious  for  another  interview  with  the  ped- 
dler, but  she  had  no  clew  to  his  whereabouts.  She  would 
have  liked  to  have  thought  it  all  a  dream,  but  she  felt  the 
reality  too  vividly  for  that.  She  took  her  brother  Henry 
into  her  confidence,  and  he,  becoming  interested  also  in  this 
seeming  mystery,  promised  to  find  the  peddler  for  her,  if 
possible.  After  a  sleepless  night,  Miriam,  accompanied  by 
Henry,  took  the  early  train  for  San  Francisco,  and  by  noon 
was  in  close  consultation  with  the  Chief  of  Police.  She  had 
drawn  a  hasty  sketch  of  the  peddler,  from  memory,  which 
she  gave  to  the  detective. 

"Money,"  she  said  to  the  Captain,  "is  no  object.  I  must 
have  another  interview  with  that  man,  and  he  can  have  no 
reason  in  the  world  for  avoiding  it." 

' '  Except, "  replied  the  Qhief ,  * '  that  he  may  fear  the  con- 
fiscation of  that  nice  little  package  of  precious  stones,  which 
he  says  have  never  seen  the  Custom  House.  But,  neverthe- 
less, I  think  I  can  find  him." 

"I  do  not  wish,"  said  Miriam,  "to  harm  a  hair  of  his 
head,  or  to  injure  him  in  purse,  and  I  hope  you  will  not 
consider  yourself  bound  to  remember  the  pack.  In  fact,  I 
think,  as  you  are  at  work  for  me,  you  should  take  no  advan- 
tage of  information  I  have  been  compelled  to  give  you." 

"  Certainly  not,  Miss,"  returned  the  urbane  officer,  "I. 
shall  be  at  your  command.  But  first  let  us  try  the  effect  of 
a  little  advertisement." 

The  following  was  then  written  and  inserted  the  next  day 
in  the  personal  column  of  the  dailies : 

"If  the  peddler  who  called  at  the  house  on  the  Alameda, 
between  San  Jose  and  Santa  Clara,  last  Monday,  and  offered 
to  sell  a  curious  ring,  will  return  again,  he  will  be  paid 


14  SACRIFICE. 

ihree  times  the  amount  he  asked  for  it.  Should  there  be 
any  one  whom  he  fears  to  meet,  the  young  lady  pledges  her- 
self to  stand  between  him  and  all  harm,  either  to  purse  or 
^person." 

Miriam  returned  home  to  await  developments.  At  the 
end  of  a  week  the  Chief  of  Police  called  upon  her.  She 
^saw  him  coming  up  the  avenue,  and  hurried  to  meet  him  at 
the  door.  The  usual  salutations  over,  she  conducted  him  to 
the  library,  where,  scarcely  waiting  for  him  to  be  seated,  she 
•eagerly  questioned : 

"  Have  you  found  my  peddler  ?  " 

"  It  is  a  queer  case,  Miss  Howard,"  he  said.  "  I  sent  one 
of  the  shrewdest  men  on  the  police  force  down  here  to  hunt 
up  some  clew  to  him.  He  ascertained  that  the  peddler  had 
-not  called  at  any  other  house  in  this  neighborhood,  or  in  the 
«ity,  and  could  find  no  clew  whatever  to  his  whereabouts. 
I  had  about  made  up  my  mind,  Miss  Howard,  that  it  was  all 
the  result  of  your  own  imagination.  The  mind  has  some- 
times strange  hallucinations.  I  started  down  yesterday  to 
tell  you  that  I  could  do  nothing  with  the  case;  but,  just  as 
the  train  left  Redwood  City,  I  looked  out  of  the  window  of 
the  car,  and  saw  your  peddler  trudging  along  in  the  direction 
of  that  village.  I  was  struck  with  -astonishment  at  the  cor- 
rectness of  your  picture  of  him.  As  I  thrust  my  head  out 
of  the  window,  our  eyes  met.  At  that  moment  the  expres- 
.sion  on  his  face  was  quizzical  in  the  extreme,  and  said  as 
.plainly  as  words  could  have  done:  'I  know  you,  old  boy, 
and  I  know  who  you  are  looking  for.  When  you  find  me, 
let  me  know.'  That  look  was  a  challenge.  My  profes- 
sional ire  was  aroused,  and  jumping  to  the  bell-rope  I 
pulled  as  though  the  train  was  on  the  verge  of  a  precipice. 
The  engine  slackened  up,  and,  without  stopping  to ^explain 
to  the  conductor,  I  jumped  off.  There  was  less  than  a 
.quarter  of  a  mile  between  us  when  I  got  off,  and  I  would  not 
have  given  a  man  ten  dollars  to  have  ensured  me  his  capture. 
He  was  such  a  marked  character  that  no  one  could  have 
.helped  noticing  him.  I  went  back  to  Redwood,  and  made 


THE  SEARCH — THE  LETTER.  15 

a  thorough  search.  No  one  had  seen  him.  I  became 
excited  and  offered  five  hundred  dollars  reward  to  any  one 
who  would  find  him.  The  country  all  about  was  scoured ; 
but  no  trace  of  him,  high  or  low,  could  be  found.  I  have 
almost  fancied  that  I  myself  had  fallen  asleep,  and  dreamed 
that  I  saw  him.  It  is  the  queerest  case,  Miss  Howard,  that 
I  ever  undertook  to  handle." 

"  You  did  not  dream,"  said  Miriam,  in  a  tone  of  certainty. 
"  You  are  not  that  kind  of  a  man,  and  I  flatter  myself  that 
even  though  found  insenible,  I  am  not  one  of  the  nervous, 
dreamy  sort." 

"Well,  what  shall  we  do  next?"  queried  the  chief. 

"Kelaxnot  your  search;  find  him,  if  possible." 

Soon  after  the  departure  of  the  officer  a  letter  was  handed 
to  Miriam,  who,  seeing  that  the  post-mark  was  Jerusalem, 
hastened  to  her  room,  that  she  might  enjoy  its  contents 
undisturbed.  Eagerly  she  tore  it  open  and  read: 

"  CONVENT  or  MAR  SABA, ,  187-. 

"  My  own  dear  Miriam: — As  the  Patriarch,  having  been  on 
a  visit  to  these  good  monks,  is  on  the  point  of  returning  to 
Jerusalem,  I  avail  myself  of  his  kind  offer  to  be  the  bearer 
of  letters  as  far  as  that  city.  In  your  last,  you  say  that  you 
cannot  see  what  holds  me  in  such  a  God-cursed  country  as  I 
have  described  this  to  be.  It  is  destiny,  my  dear  Miriam — 
DESTINY.  I  would  gladly  break  the  chain  which  holds  me 
here  and  fly  to  the  side  of  her  whom  I  prize  above  all  earthly 
treasures;  but  if  the  finger  of  God  has  pointed  out  a  part 
for  a  man  to  play  in  the  drama  of  life,  it  becomes  him  to  act 
it  out  like  a  man.  Terrible  are  the  responsibilities  some- 
times placed  upon  one  pair  of  human  shoulders.  I  know, 
Miriam,  that  you  are  a  brave  woman,  and  that  if  I  should 
fall  at  my  post,  doing  duty,  that  while  you  would  ever  hold 
my  memory  sacred,  and,  that  knowing  all,  you  would  go 
down  to  the  grave  with  my  likeness  upon  your  heart,  you 
would  have  no  vain  regrets  that  I  did  not  fly  the  post 
assigned  me,  that  we  might  enjoy  together  a  brief  span  of 
happiness. 


16  SACRIFICE. 

"  But,  dearest,  I  do  not  write  to  sadden  you,  nor  would  1 
fill  your  heart  with  forebodings  of  evil.  If  I  do  not  come 
to  you  in  a  few  months  from  now,  a  trusty  messenger  will 
bring  you  a  history  of  my  operations  here. 

"'God-cursed  country!'  You  are  right,  Miriam.  But 
you  who  have  never  seen  it  cannot  measure  the  awful  import 
of  those  words.  He  who  spoke,  and  the  world  was,  laid 
His  finger  in  anger  on  this  spot,  and  utter  ruin  and  desola- 
tion followed.  I  have  found  ruins  that  no  human  eye  but 
mine  has  beheld.  I  have  been  among  the  ancient  dead,  and 
have  read  there  the  fate  of  nations.  It  makes  me  realize 
how  like  a  meteor  is  this  life — a  momentary  flash,  then  all  is 
gone  forever.  Should  one  miss  the  enjoyment  of  it,  how 
little  he  would  have  lost ! 

' '  My  health  was  never  better.  Exposure  and  a  rough  life 
seem  to  agree  with  me.  If  I  should  ever  get  back  to  Cali- 
fornia, I  expect  I  shall  be  obliged  to  have  a  bed  made  of 
salt,  asphaltum,  coal-tar,  sulphur,  and  a  little  of  every 
odoriferous  compound,  before  I  can  sleep. 

"This  convent,  as  I  have  before  told  you,  is  several  miles 
from  the  Dead  Sea  and  some  hundreds  of  feet  above  it,  and, 
although  this  would  not  be  an  inviting  place  to  '  an  immi- 
grant,' it  is  a  paradise  when  compared  with  the  surroundings 
of  the  sea. 

"  By  the  way,  I  met  with  a  little  adventure  the  other  day, 
which  might  be  of  some  interest  to  you.  I  had  camped  all 
alone  at  the  mouth  of  this  ravine — Wady-en-Nar — and  early 
next  morning,  during  a  dead  calm,  took  my  boat  and  sailed 
along  the  coast  to  Ain  Jidy,  and  from  there  across  the  sea  to 
the  eastern  shore.  There  I  went  on  foot  a  short  distance 
into  the  land  of  Moab,  to  the  veritable  cavern  in  which  Lot 
sought  refuge  when  he  fled  from  Sodom.  I  have  satisfied 
myself  beyond  all  doubt  as  to  the  identity  of  the  cavern 
and  the  ruins.  It  was  near  nightfall  when  I  entered  the 
cavern  with  my  torches;  but,  as  night  is  as  good  as  day  for 
such  an  expedition,  it  made  not  the  least  difference.  I 
prowled  around  here  all  night,  making  a  number  of  interest- 


THE  SEARCH — THE  LETTER.  17 

ing  discoveries.  At  length,  in  one  of  the  deepest  recesses 
of  this  cavern,  I  came  across  a  well-preserved  old  gentle- 
man, who  might  have  been  contemporary  with  Lot  himself, 
for  aught  I  know  to  the  contrary.  On  proceeding  to  make  a 
closer  acquaintance  with  him,  I  was  struck  with  the  appear- 
ance of  a  curious  ring  upon  one  of  his  fingers.  It  simulated 
a  serpent,  coiled  twice  around  the  finger.  The  eyes,  by 
torchlight,  seemed  to  glare  at  me,  and  the  tongue  extending 
from  its  mouth  seemed  to  fairly  hiss.  The  ring  was  of  gold; 
but  the  gems  of  the  eyes  and  the  metal  of  the  tongue  I  can- 
not describe,  for  never  before  have  I  seen  anything  like 
unto  them.  Well,  I  borrowed  this  ring  from  this  nice  old 
gentleman,  and  left  the  cavern,  reaching  the  boat  about 
daylight.  Just  as  I  was  about  to  step  in,  I  was  seized  by  a 
band  of  wild  Arabs,  who  had  been  lying  in  wait  for  me. 
These  were  of  a  roving  tribe,  and  did  not  belong  to  any  of 
those  that  occupy  the  territory  immediately  surrounding  the 
sea.  I  have  been  on  the  most  friendly  terms  with  those 
around  here,  especially  the  Ghaurariyehs  on  the  eastern, 
and  the  Kashayindehs  on  the  western  shore.  I  thought  I 
could  conciliate  them,  when  I  addressed  them  in  their  own 
language,  and  explained  that  I  had  been  in  these  parts  a 
great  while,  and  that  I  had  no  money  or  property  of  which 
to  be  robbed.  Notwithstanding  my  eloquence,  they  deter- 
mined to  keep  me  prisoner  until  I  could  get  a  ransom  of  five 
hundred  dollars.  The  very  excellent  Superior  of  the  Con- 
vent of  Mar  Saba  had  been  acting  as  my  banker  for  some 
months — that  is,  I  left  all  my  cash  and  valuables  in  his 
hands — and  I  was  about  to  place  in  the  hands  of  the  Chief 
an  order  on  him,  for  the  demanded  amount,  when  at  this 
opportune  moment  there  came  along  an  old  Jew,  whom  I  had 
met  before  on  several  interesting  occasions,  and  seeing  the 
predicament  I  was  in,  he  volunteered  to  assist  me  by  paying 
the  ransom.  He  would  take  no  acknowledgment  from  me  of 
the  debt,  saying  he  did  it  for  the  sake  of  the  friendship 
existing  between  us,  and  only  asked  as  a  keepsake  the  little 
trinket  I  wore  upon  my  hand,  meaning  the  curious  ring  I 


18  SACKIFICE. 

had  found.  Of  course  I  could  not  refuse,  though  I  knew 
that  the  ring  was  of  far  greater  value,  from  its  antiquity, 
than  the  amount  of  the  ransom.  The  robbers  knew  him,  and 
taking  his  word  for  tlie  payment  of  the  demand,  released 
me,  with  the  promise  that  none  of  their  tribe  should  ask 
tribute  of  me  again;  and  the  Arab  robber  always  respects 
this  sort  of  an  agreement. 

"Somehow,  I  have  been  regretting  ever  since  my  adven- 
ture, that  I  did  not  carry  out  my  first  intention,  and  send  to 
the  convent  for  the  money,  instead  of  giving  up  my  ring; 
but  it  would  have  taken  one  of  them  about  three  days  to  go 
and  come,  as  you  could  not  get  a  wild  Arab  to  cross  the 
waters  of  the  Dead  Sea,  as  I  had  done,  for  love  nor  money. 
I  have  been  wishing  to  see  the  old  Jew  again  that  I  might 
once  more  gain  possession  of  the  ring. 

"  The  other  day,  a  party  of  tourists  came  along  by  the 
convent,  and  were  overtaken  lay  a  storm  of  wind  and  rain. 
The  good  monks  are  the  most  hospitable  creatures  in  the 
world;  but  as  they  are  cloistered,  their  vows  prevent  them 
from  seeing  women,  or  holding  any  conversation  with  them. 
Here  was  a  predicament,  and  I  do  not  know  how  it  would 
have  been  overcome  to  the  satisfaction  of  either  party,  had 
it  not  been  for  the  presence  of  your  humble  servant,  who  is 
yet  permitted  to  look  upon  the  naughty  sex. 

"As  I  have  written  you  before,  this  convent  is  built  from 
the  ravine  up  entirely  to  the  top  of  the  cliff — some  400  feet 
— which  is  honey-combed  with  excavations.  One  of  these 
excavations  is  outside  the  convent  proper,  and  I  was 
appointed  to  lead  the  tourists  into  that  for  shelter.  Judge 
of  my  surpise  and  delight,  when  I  found  that  the  party  were 
all  Californians,  and  most  of  them  acquaintances.  Amongst 
their  number  was  your  lively  friend,  Agnes  Bonhain,  and  her 
brother  Jack.  They  said  they  were  going  to  turn  their  steps 
homeward  in  a  few  days,  and  they  will  doubtless  arrive  as 
soon  as  this  epistle.  I  became  the  guide — the  dragoman — 
of  this  party  for  the  next  day.  I  promised  to  show  them  some 
curious  things  if  they  would  only  follow  me — among  them, 


THE  SEARCH — THE  LETTER.  19 

certainly,  the  ruins  of  Gomorrah  and  Lot's  Cave;  but  the 
ladies,  and,  I  fear  me  much,  the  men ,  could  have  ill  borne 
the  exposure  of  such  a  trip;  so  they  were  obliged  to  be  satis- 
fied with  skimming  around  one  corner  of  the  sea. 

"How  unsatisfactory  would  be  to  me  this  flying  life  of  the 
tourist!  They  travel  over  the  world,  but  they  see  nothing. 
I  took  this  party  down  the  coast  as  far  south  as  Ain  Jidy, 
and  showed  them  where  'David  went  up  and  dwelt  in  the 
strongholds  of  Engaddi.'  I  showed  them  here  some  of  my  own 
discoveries,  which  caused  many  exclamations  of  wonder.  As 
Agnes  will  want  to  have  something  to  talk  about  when  she  sees 
you,  I  will  say  no  more,  but  leave  it  to  her  to  tell  the  rest. 

"When  it  comes  to  say  good-bye,  even  in  a  letter, 
dearest  Miriam,  I  am  sad  again,  and  while  I  love  you  beyond 
all  other  earthly  loves,  a  regret  sometimes  will  creep  into  my 
heart  that  your  pure,  innocent  life  must  depend,  for  its 
happiness,  on  one  whom  destiny  seems  to  be  leading  on  to 
— what  ?  I  cannot  say.  Have  I  dwelt  amongst  the  dead  so 
long — have  I  robbed  the  past  of  so  many  of  its  mysteries, 
that  my  own  existence  has  become  linked  with  theirs  ?  Oh, 
Miriam,  pray  for  me !  Pray  for  me  as  you  have  never  prayed 
before.  Once  He  whose  name  I  am  scarce  worthy  to  utter 
prayed  that  the  bitter  cup  might  pass — the*  bitter  cup  which 
love  itself  pressed  to  His  lips.  But,  loved  one,  adieu. 
Devotedly  your  own,  "HuGH  ASHBY." 

Every  word  of  this  letter  sank  deeply  into  Miriam's  heart. 
Taken  in  connection  with  the  visit  of  the  Jew,  and  her  own 
apparent  vision  on  looking  at  the  ring,  there  seemed  a 
mystery  somewhere  that  quite  overwhelmed  her.  She  sat 
with  the  letter  'in  her  hand  and  tried  to  think,  but*  she 
seemed  to  have  no  premises  from  which  to  reason.  Some 
great  calamity  seemed  to  hover  over  her  lover.  What  was 
it?  No  feeling  of  jealousy,  however,  entered  her  mind  on 
account  of  the  beautiful  woman  of  her  vision.  That  he  was 
true  and  noble,  and  entirely  devoted  to  her,  she  felt  certain . 
Could  she  as  sist  him  ?  Oh,  for  another  interview  with  the 
peddler! 


CHAPTER   III. 

THE  RETURN. 

FTEE  several  days  of  nervous  anxiety,  of  restless 
days  and  more  restless  nights,  Miriam,  on  picking 
up  the  paper  one  morning,  read  among  the  list  of 
passengers  westward  bound  from  Ogden  the  name 
of  her  friend,  Agnes  Bonham.  It  was  some  satis- 
faction at  least  to  know  that  she  could  soon  talk  with 
one  who  had  so  lately  seen  and  talked  with  him  she 
loved  so  well.  In  fact,  she  was  just  beginning  to  realize 
the  full  strength  of  her  affection  for  Hugh  Ashby.  A  thou- 
sand times  a  day  she  questioned  herself,  ' '  What  shall  I  do  ? 
What  can  I  do  ?  "  But  she  had  not,  as  yet,  arrived  at  even 
an  approximate  solution  of  the  questions.  She  began  to 
feel  like  a  mere  walking  and  talking  machine,  for  she  found 
it  impossible  to  keep  her  mind  on  any  subject  of  conversa- 
tion brought  up.  The  train  which  was  to  bring  her  friend 
Agnes  seemed  an  age  in  crossing  the  Sierras;  but  it  did 
arrive  in  due  time,  and  Miriam,  in  her  own  carriage,  went 
to  meet  her  at  the  de"pot. 

Agnes'  parents  lived  some  five  miles  from  San  Jose,  and 
had  sent  a  conveyance  to  the  de"pot  to  carry  the  travelers 
home.  Miriam  told  Jack  that  he  might  get  himself  home 
alone  in  the  carriage  sent  for  them,  for  that  she  herself  was 
going  to  drive  Agnes  out,  as  she  was  impatient  to  have  a 
talk  with  her.  Jack  laughed  in  a  knowing  manner,  and 
drove  off,  leaving  Agnes  and  Miriam  to  follow. 

"  Now,  dear  Agnes,"  commenced  Miriam,  as  soon  as  they 
were  alone,  and  even  before  the  driver  could  get  turned 
around  at  the  station,  "'  I  do  not  intend  to  let  you  ask  a  sin- 
gle question  about  what  has  been  going  on  around  San  Jose 
for  the  last  year,  anxious  as  I  know  you  to  be,  until  you  tell 
me  all  about  Hugh — dear,  good,  old  Hugh !  I  had  a  letter 


THE  BETUEN.  21 

from  him  the  other  day,  in  which  he  spoke  of  having  seen 
you.  Did  he  send  any  message  ?  Does  he  look  natural  ? 
Is  his  health  good  ?  Does  he  look  sad  ?  Well,  tell  me  all 
vou  know ! " 

m 

"  Oh,  my! "  exclaimed  Agnes,  " what  a  jolly  thing  it  must 
be  to  be  in  love!  One  would  think  that  Hugh  Ashby  was 
the  only  fish  in  the  sea,  and  that  your  life  depended  on 
catching  him." 

"  He  is  the  only  fish,  Agnes,  in  my  sea;  but  I  sometimes 
fear  that  my  sea  is  the  Dead  Sea,  where  they  say  that  fish 
will  not  live." 

"  Come  now,  Miriam,  don't  speak  so  sadly,  and  I  will 
answer  all  your  questions  about  Hugh.  He  is  a  jolly  good 
fellow,  and  I  only  wish  I  had  a  beau  like  him.  I  would 
have  spread  my  net  for  him,  even  on  the  Dead  Sea,  had  I 
not  known  that  he  was  your  exclusive  property.  But,  to 
answer  your  questions,  he  sent  all  sorts  of  word  to  you.  He 
looks  as  natural  as  life,  except  that  he  is  so  tanned  that  he  is 
almost  as  black  as  an  Arab;  but  he  is  an  awfully  fine-looking 
fellow  for  all  that.  His  health  is  remarkably  good,  especially 
for  one  who  has  been  so  long  sojourning  in  such  an  infernal 
— there,  I  almost  swore,  didn't  I,  Miriam  ?  Excuse  me,  if 
you  please,  but  if  you  ever  see  that  country  you  will  be 
tempted  to  call  it  by  the  same  naughty  name.  Well,  let's 
see — what  was  the  other  question?  Oh!  'Don't  he  look 
sad  ? '  Well,  I  declare,  I  had  not  thought  about  that,  but 
since  you  come  to  speak  of  it,  I  did  catch  him  looking  sad 
two  or  three  times,  and  I  slapped  his  cheeks  for  it,  and  told 
him  not  to  let  us  remind  him  too  much  of  you.  Oh,  he  is 
such  a  splendid  fellow !  Don't  you  know,  if  I  had  not  loved 
you,  I  would  have  fallen  in  love  with  him,  in  spite  of  myself  ? 
I  believe  I  told  you  that  before,  but  if  you  want  to  get  jeal- 
ous, old  lady,  go  ahead,"  and  Agnes  laughed  saucily  in 
Miriam's  face.  "  What  else  shall  I  tell  you  about  him?  But 
let  me  tell  you  before  I  go  any  further — he  loves  you.  The 
way  his  voice  would  soften  and  become  musical,  his  eyes 
beam,  and  his  countenance  light  up  with  the  depth  of  his 


22  SACRIFICE. 

love  when  he  spoke  of  you,  made  me  almost  envy  you  the 
possession  of  such  a  true  heart." 

Although  Miriam  had  never  for  one  moment  doubted  her 
lover's  fidelity,  yet  the  reassuring  words  of  her  friend,  given 
in  her  off-hand,  rattling  way,  was  a  balm  to  her  troubled 
feelings.  He  loved  her — he  was  in  the  possession  of  health 
and  vigor — his  mind  was  strong  and  unimpaired;  then  why 
should  she  feel  uneasy?  But  the  words  of  his  own  letter 
were  so  full  of  forebodings,  that,  her  thoughts  recurring  to 
them,  she  became  again  saddened  in  spite  of  her  efforts  to 
overcome  that  feeling.  "Tell  me,  Agnes,"  she  said,  "did 
you  find  out  what  he  was  doing  ?  Did  you  see  enough  to 
guess  at  the  attractions  which  keep  him  in  such  a  place  ? 
Tell  me  all  about  what  he  did  and  said.  Tell  me  of  his  sur- 
roundings, and  of  his  work." 

"Did  he  tell  you  in  his  letter  how  we  happened  to  find 
him?"  , 

"  Yes,  he  told  me  something  about  it;  but  go  on  and  tell 
it  in  your  own  way." 

"  Well,  one  fine  morning  our  party  started  out  from  Jeru- 
salem to  go  down  by  the  borders  of  the  Dead  Sea,  and 
thence  up  the  Jordan  to  the  noted  Biblical  places  on  that 
stream.  Our  way  lay  down  the  Kidron,  a  sort  of  dry  ravine, 
on  which  is  located,  about  midway  down,  the  Greek  Convent 
of  Mar  Saba,  inhabited  by  a  jolly  lot  of  old  monks,  who  are 
afraid  of  a  woman.  We  expected  to  get  water  and  camp 
near  by  for  the  night;  although  there  is  hardly  a  level  place 
in  that  locality  big  enough  to  pitch  a  tent  upon.  Just  as  we 
neared  the  convent  a  terrific  thunder-storm  let  loose  upon 
us.  Our  guides  began  looking  about  for  some  shelter- 
there  was  no  use,  they  told  us,  of  asking  to  have  women 
admitted  within  the  convent,  as  it  was  against  the  rules. 
The  horrid  old  monks!  wonder  what  they  are  afraid  of 
women  for  ?  Guess  they  were  bad  boys,  and  their  mothers 
had  to  'bend  their  necks  and  beat  their  sides,'  and  from 
that  took  a  distaste  to  woman-kind  in  general;  or,  I  wonder, 
as  I  told  Hugh,  if  they  ever  had  any  mothers. 


THE  RETURN.  23 

"Well,"  continued  Agnes,  scarcely  pausing  for  breath, 
"just  at  this  moment,  when  we  were  expecting  to  weather 
the  storm,  your  Hugh  dropped  down  among  us  like  some 
Heaven-sent  messenger  of  old.  I  was  awfully  glad  to  see 
him — not  only  because  he  proposed  to  lead  us  to  shelter, 
but  I  liked  him,  and  loved  his  sweetheart;  or  fix  it  around 
vice  versa,  if  you  like.  Without  stopping  to  shake  hands  or 
exchange  greetings,  Hugh  hastily  led  us  to  a  house  cut  out 
of  the  solid  rock.  It  was  not  a  cave,  but  a  nice  little  house 
in  all  fls  appointments.  Our  servants  made  a  fire  and  pre- 
pared supper.  After  drying  our  drenched  garments,  and 
satisfying  our  ravenous  appetites,  we  sat  down  to  have  a 
chat.  Hugh  had  managed  to  get  me  off  on  a  stone  bench, 
apart  from  the  rest — you  know  how  the  men  can  manage  these 
things — and  we  had  a  nice  little  confab  about  home,  and 
more  particularly  about  a  certain  young  lady,  then  supposed 
to  be  thinking  of  at  least  one  of  us. 

"  Hugh  knew  I  was  your  'right  hand  man,'  so  he  could 
talk  as  freely  as  he  chose.  I  began  to  banter  him. 

"  How  does  it  happen,  Mr.  Ashby,"  I  queried,  "  that  we 
fin.d  you  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and  your  wedding  day  so 
near  at  hand  ?  You  will  have  to  do  some  fast  travelling  to 
be  on  hand  at  the  appointed  hour.  Miriam  told  me  to  be 
sure  to  be  at  home  by  that  time,  and  I  have  been  worrying 
myself  to  death,  and  scolding  my  companions  on  account  of 
delays,  and  here  I  find  the  bridegroom  caged  up  with  a  lot 
of  woman-hating  old  monks !  " 

"Miriam  Howard,"  he  said,  slowly  and  emphatically,  "is 
a  true  woman.  I  have  written  her  not  to  expect  me  at  any 
appointed  time,  and  she  will  know  that  matters  of  vast  im- 
portance hinder  me." 

"  Oh,  fie!  Mr.  Ashby,"  I  exclaimed.  "Ain't  you  ashamed 
of  yourself  ?  What  could  be  of  more  importance  than  get- 
ting married  ?  "  , 

"  I  do  not  know  of  anything  in  the  ordinary  lin,e,  Miss 
Bonham,  more  important,"  he  said;  "but  men  are  not 
always  entirely  free  agents.  There  is  a  divinity  that  shapes 


24  SACRIFICE. 

our  ends,  rough  hew  them  as  we  may.  If  some  friend  were 
doomed  to  die,  and  if,  by  some  sacrifice  you  could  save  him, 
would  you  not  consider  it  your  duty  to  make  it  ?  " 

"That  friend,"  I  replied,  "ought  to  be  under  lasting 
obligations  to  you,  for  disappointing,  not  only  yourself,  but 
so  noble  a  girl  as  Miriam  Howard.  But  do  you  not  know, 
Mr.  Ashby,  that  ingratitude  is  so  often  the  return  for  such 
sacrifices  that  it  makes  one  feel  ill-natured  with  one's  self 
for  having  made  them  ?  " 

"If  I  were  seeking  nothing  more  than  gratitude,  Miss 
Bonham,  I  should  be  at  this  moment  at  the  side  of  Miss 
Howard,  and  you  might  have  been  out  in  the  storm." 

"Then  it  was  the  foreknowledge  that  we  were  coming 
which  detained  you  in  this  God-forsaken  place  ?  " 

"  Foreknowledge,  Miss  Bonham,  is  not  often  given  to  man, 
and  certainly  never  to  me.  Our  hearts  would  sometimes 
quail  could  they  see  into  the  future.  Suppose  you  could  tell 
the  exact  day  when  each  of  your  friends  would  die,  and  when 
you,  yourself,  were  to  be  called  upon  to  enter  the  realms  of 
the  great  unknown,  do  you  think  you  could  ever  see  a  happy 
day  ?  I  have  tried  sometimes  to  lift  the  veil  of  futurity,  but 
have  at  last  settled  down  to  let  each  day  be  the  arbiter  of 
its  own  events.  /  can  see  how  the  current  of  the  stream  is  set- 
ting, and  I  can  reason  as  to  where  it  must  end;  but  some- 
time the  current  of  one's  life  is  like  a  strange  river,  of  which 
there  is  no  chart.  Sometimes  we  seem  to  manage  our  vessel 
but  occasionally  we  feel  that  an  unseen  hand  is  at  the  helm ." 

"His  manner  and  his  emphasis,  more  than  his  words, 
made  me  remember  all  he  said." 

"Then  he  seemed  impressed,"  said  Miriam,  "with  the  idea 
of  some  impending  evil.  Did  you  get  the  impression  that 
he  had  given  the  rudder  of  his  life-boat  entirely  into  these 
unseen  hands  ?  " 

"I  did  not  get  such  an  impression  at  the  time,  but  I  have 
been  puzzling  my  brains — and  you  will  think  that  a  wonder 
— ever  since,  about  that  queer  man;  that  is,  the  man  is  not 
queer,  but  his  doings  are.  Why,  it  turned  out  in  the  course 


THE  RETURN.  25 

of  his  conversations  with  us  that  he  was  in  the  habit  of  dig- 
ging down  into  some  old  ruin,  and  when  he  got  tired,  lie 
down  and  sleep  among  a  lot  of  four  thousand  year  old  mum- 
mies. Ugh!  He  is  very  certain  that  he  has  found  Gomor- 
rah on  the  south-western  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea.  He  had 
inscriptions,  which  he  read  to  us,  which  proved  this.  He 
will  startle  the  world  with  the  account  of  his  discoveries 
when  he  gets  ready  to  leave  that  horrid  place." 

"  Mr.  Ashby,"  I  said,  jestingly,  "you  have  slept  with  the 
dead  of  Gomorrah,  and  now  I  suppose  your  ambition  will 
not  be  satisfied  until  you  have  spent  a  night  with  the  Sodom- 
ites?" 

"God  in  His  wrath,"  he  replied,  "sank  Sodom  too  deep 
for  the  energy  of  man  to  ever  reach,  and  hence  man  must  be 
satisfied  with  finding  out  what  he  can  about  it,  without  enter- 
ing the  city." 

"He  was  with  you  all  the  next  day,  was  he  not?"  asked 
Miriam. 

"Oh,  yes,  two  days.  He  said  that  the  hardships  to  the 
party  would  be  too  great  to  undertake  to  visit  his  wondrous 
ruins  at  Gomorrah,  but  he  promised  us  that  when  we  got 
down  to  the  sea,  if  the  weather  was  suitable,  he  would  take 
us  down  to  Engaddi — now  called  Ain  Jidy — and  show  us  the 
veritable  cavern  in  which  David  took  refuge  when  pursued 
by  Saul.  But  here  we  are  at  the  gate,  and  dear  mamma  is 
coming  down  to  meet  us.  Come  in  and  I  will  tell  you  all 
about  this  after  awhile." 

' '  No, "  said  Miriam,  ' '  your  dear  parents  will  want  you  to- 
day all  to  themselves  after  your  long  absence.     I  will  come 
«over  to-morrow  or  next  day,  and  we  will  have  a  long  talk." 

Agnes  alighted,  embraced  her  mother  and  ran  to  the 
house,  kissing  and  embracing  younger  brothers  and  sisters 
as  she  came  to  them.  Miriam  looked  after  her  light-hearted 
friend,  and  breathed  a  prayer  that  trouble  might  always  be  a 
stranger  to  her.  She  then  ordered  the  coachman  to  turn  the 
horses  homewards,  and  to  drive  slowly.  She  wanted  time 
to  think,  and  the  out-door  surroundings,  with  the  invigorat- 


26  SACRIFICE. 

ing  sea  breeze  which  fanned  her  brow  through  the,  open 
carriage  window  seemed  more  in  unison  with  her  feelings 
than  the  interior  of  any  room,  howsoever  elegant  its  appoint- 
ments. 

"To  think!  There  are  times  when  one  could  almost  wish 
one  had  not  the  power  of  thought.  That  ring!  Was  the 
Jew  simply  a  mesmerist,  and  had  he  made  her  see  these 
things  through  some  freak  of  his  fancy?  Then,  Hugh's 
letter,  and  his  talk  with  Miss  Bonham  were  so  strange.  Yet, 
might  not  every  line  and  every  word  be  capable  of  the  sim- 
plest solution  ?  And  the  peddler  ?  He  had  escaped  the 
vigilant  search  of  the  officers;  but  had  not  long  practice  in 
smuggling  and  eluding  the  vigilance  of  the  police  given  him 
a  sort  of  intuition,  which  made  escape  easy?  Was  it  not 
possible  that  he  had  a  dozen  disguises  ?  "  But  this  mode  of 
reasoning  brought  no  satisfaction,  and  she  said  to  herself: 
"Hugh  Ashby  is  a  brave  man.  If  the  hand  of  destiny 
seems  to  be  leading  him  on  to  unknown  results,  he  will  fol- 
low with  an  undaunted  heart.  For  good,  or  for  evil,  my 
destiny  is  linked  with  his.  His  bride  shall  be  worthy  of 
him.  Let  the  current  of  the  stream  set  as  it  will — let  the 
unseen  hand  grasp  the  tiller  and  direct  it  as  it  may,  Miriam 
Howard  is  prepared  to  meet  her  fate." 


CHAPTER   IV. 


THE  HOWARDS. 

)IKIAM  came  to  the  breakfast  table  the  next  morn- 
ing after  Agnes'  return,  with  a  smile  upon  her  lips;, 
but  a  close  observer  would  have  noticed  that  it  was 
a  smile  born  of  determination  rather  than  of  happi- 
ness. The  stranger,  to  have  seen  this  family,  as 
Miriam  glided  into  the  room  and  saluted  each — father, 
mother  and  brother  —  with  a  loving  kiss — would  have 
thought  it  as  happy  a  group  as  he  had  ever  witnessed.  And, 
with  one  exception,  it  perhaps  was.  They  had  all  felt  anx- 
ious about  Miriam  when  she  had  talked  of  the  visit  of  the 
peddler,  but  on  seeing  her  enter  the  room  with  her  usual 
buoyant  step,  while  the  old  smile  seemed  to  have  returned 
to  her  face,  each  of  the  others  felt  cause  for  congratulation. 
James  Howard,  now  sixty  years  of  age  or  thereabouts, 
and  hale  and  hearty  as  one  twenty  years  his  junior,  was  a 
handsome-looking  old  man.  Although  Time,  in  passing; 
over  his  head,  had  with  his  frosty  finger  traced  his  record 
on  hair  and  benrd,  yet  he  stood  erect  and  portly  in  his  six 
feet  of  manhood.  All  his  life  he  had  enjoyed  the  best  of 
health,  and  temperate  habits  had  added  vigor  to  a  naturally 
strong  constitution.  His  face,  with  prominent,  well-marked 
features,  beamed  with  intelligence  and  benevolence — a  face 
to  which  the  poor  and  needy  were  instinctively  attracted, 
and  never  sent  away  disappointed— and  the  merry  twinkle 
of  his  keen  black  eye  showed  that  the  love  of  fun  had  not 
departed  with  his  bygone  years.  His  wife,  a  frail,  gentle 
little  woman,  some  ten  years  younger  than  himself,  had  been 
for  several  years  past  almost  an  invalid,  and  was  the  object 
of  a  tender,  devoted  love  and  anxious  solicitude,  from  both 
husband  and  children.  Henry,  the  son,  now  thirty,  and 
eight  years  older  than  his  sister  Miriam,  was  almost  the 
counterpart  of  his  father,  tall,  handsome  and  prepossessing.. 


2  SACRIFICE. 

Ambitious  and  energetic,  lie  had  already  made  himself  a 
State  reputation  as  a  lawyer.  Miriam  seemed  to  partake  of 
the  characteristics  of  both  father  and  mother.  The  beauti- 
iul,  expressive  gray  eye,  cameo-like  features,  and  easy, 
refined  manners,  were  the  mother's  heritage  to  her  child; 
the  glossy  black  hair,  fine,  well-developed  figure,  and  a 
vigorous  constitution,  were  from  the  father. 

After  they  had  been  seated  at  the  table,  and  thanks  had 
been  returned  to  the  Giver  of  all  good  and  perfect  gifts  for 
the  bread  they  were  about  to  break,  Mr.  Howard  said : 

"I  don't  know  what  you  may  all  think  about  it,  but  I  have 
been  gambling." 

"You  gambling,  papa!"  exclaimed  Miriam,  in  amaze- 
ment, scarcely  believing  her  ears;  but  on  looking  in  her 
father's  eyes  she  saw  that  all  had  not  been  told. 

Mrs.  Howard,  sitting  at  the  head  of  the  table  in  the 
quietest  of  morning  toilets,  filling  with  her  own  fair  hands 
the  delicate  china  cups  with  the  steaming  tea  and  coffee, 
smiled  indulgently;  for  well  she  knew  her  husband's  propen- 
sity for  a  jest. 

"Explain  yourself,  my  dear,"  she  said. 

"Yes,  I've  been  gambling,  and  the  meanest  sort  of  gam- 
bling at  that — just  such  gambling  as  I  told  Henry  I  would 
disinherit  him  for,  if  I  caught  him  at  it." 

"Ah!  I  see,"  said  Henry.  "  Papa  has  been  selling  short 
on  Consolidated  Virginia,  and  has  been  caught.  His  theory 
has  been  for  some  time  that  the  mine  was  rated  too  high, 
but  it  has  gone  steadily  up.  If  I  had  not  been  afraid  of  his 
wrath,  I  might  have  made  a  handsome  thing  on  my  judg- 
ment that  it  would  go  still  higher." 

"You  are  a  pretty  good  guesser,  Mr.  Harry,"  replied  Mr. 
Howard.  "I  sold  Consolidated  Virginia,  but  it  was  all  in 
hand.  I  was  not  caught." 

"  Bought  against  your  own  judgment,  eh?  " 

1  'It  happened  in  this  wise:  Some  months  ago,  when 
stocks  were  clear  down,  John  Simkins  had  a  note  for  five 
thousand  dollars  fall  due  at  the  bank;  and  all  he  had  on 


THE  HOWARDS.  2$ 

which  to  raise  the  money  was  some  Consolidated  Virginia 
stock,  worth  at  that  time  not  more  than  four  thousand  dol- 
lars. He  came  to  me  and  asked  me  to  save  his  credit  by 
paying  the  note  and  taking  the  stock,  promising  to  pay  the 
balance  as  soon  as  he  was  able.  It  was  my  judgment  that 
the  sharps  would  soon  put  it  up,  and  I  advanced  John  the 
money  on  condition  that  he  would  never  again  engage  in 
that  species  of  gambling,  and  took  the  stock.  I  held  on  to 
it  until  yesterday,  when  I  thought  it  had  reached  about  as 
high  a  point  of  inflation  as  it  could  be  forced  to,  and  I  sold. 
I  realized  on  this  twenty  thousand  dollars  profit,  and  as  it 
was  a  forced  sale  on  John's  part — he  insisting  that  it  would 
go  to  double  its  value  when  I  got  it,  I  gave  him  his  three 
thousand  dollars,  which  highly  delighted  him.  Now  I  have 
seventeen  thousand  dollars  left  on  the  'winning.'  That's  the 
technical  name,  is  it  not,  Henry  ?  " 

"I  think,"  said  Henry,  "you  had  better  turn  that  surplus 
over  to  me,  as  it  was  I  who  argued  with  you  about  that  time 
that  Consolidated  Virginia  would  be  a  good  buy.  It  is 
hardly  fair,  old  gentleman,  for  you  to  get  the  points  from 
me,  command  me  on  pain  of  your  displeasure  not  to  engage 
in  that  business,  and  then  make  a  turn  yourself  on  my 
knowledge  and  foresight." 

"  Better  give  it  to  the  poor,"  remarked  Mrs.  Howard, 
"for  it  is  the  poor  who  suffer  from  these  fluctuations  in 
stocks.  Many  a  poor  man  with  a  large  family  on  his  hands 
will  lose  his  all  when  they  take  the  downward  grade." 

"If  we  could  relieve  all  those  cases,  or  could  find  the 
most  deserving  of  them,  I  would  gladly  give  up  any  profit  I 
might  have  made  accidentally  on  stocks;  but  we  cannot, 
and,  as  I  bought  from  a  man  whom  I  have  twice  pleased, 
and  sold  to  one  who  will  not  be  affected  by  any  break  in  the 
market,  I  do  not  feel  that  I  am  at  all  responsible  for  the 
misery  caused  by  stock  gambling.  But  what  has  Miss 
Miriam  to  say  about  it?  Offer  it  as  a  reward  to  any  one  who 
will  deliver  to  her  a  certain  young  gentleman,  who  has  stolen 
her  heart  and  will  not  return  with  it  ?  " 


30  SACRIFICE. 

"I  would  gladly  give  that,  sir,  and  more.  I  would  re- 
nounce forever  wealth  and  its  luxuries  if  I  could  only  be 
assured  that  all  was  well." 

A  shadow  passed  over  the  merry  face  of  the  father  as  his 
daughter's  words  sank  into  his  heart;  but  in  accordance  with 
his  maxim,  that  "Dull  care  shall  not  have  a  seat  at  my 
table,"  he,  with  an  effort,  resumed  his  usual  blithe  manner. 
It  had  always  been,  even  when  Mr.  Howard  was  engaged  in 
an  active  business  that  required  his  closest  attention,  that 
ihere  was  a  happy  reunion  of  the  family  at  meal  time.  The 
children  have  grown  up,  holding  in  greatest  reverence  both 
father  and  mother,  at  the  same  time  regarding  them  almost 
.as  companions,  and  feared  not  to  discourse  in  their  presence 
with  the  same  freedom  as  in  that  of  persons  of  their  own  agev 
The  parents  had  always  encouraged  a  kindly  familiarity  on 
the  part  of  their  children,  which,  instead  of  engendering 
disrespect,  had  ripened  into  a  loving  confidence.  There  had 
always  been  the  greatest  freedom  of  discourse  between 
them.  Even  when  business  matters,  as  was  often  the  case, 
were  the  topic  of  conversation — for  Mr.  Howard  had  great 
confidence  in  the  good  sense  and  judgment  of  his  frail  little 
wife — the  children  were  not  sent  away  with  some  invented 
excuse,  but  allowed  to  express  their  opinions  in  a  quiet, 
respectful  manner;  so,  as  with  their  growing  years  and  ripen- 
ing understanding  they  came  to  have  a  full  knowledge  of 
their  father's  business  affairs,  there  was  scarcely  a  time  when 
either  of  them  could  not  have  told  to  within  a  few  dollars 
the  value  of  his  estate. 

"I'll  tell  you  what  we'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  in  manner 
and  tone  as  though  struck  by  a  happy  thought.  "We'll 
have  a  jolly  good  spree.  We  will  shut  up  the  house  or  leave 
it  in  charge  of  Mrs.  Knowles,  and  we  will  all  go  to  Europe — 
perhaps  take  in  Palestine — and,"  giving  a  roguish  look  at 
Miriam,  "  perhaps  the  Dead  !Sea." 

"Will  not  Hugh  Ashby  think  us  over-anxious  to  capture 
him,  if  we  should  go  so  far  to  find  him  ?  "  suggested  Henry. 
•"  I  tell  Miriam  that  there  are  as  good  fish  in  the  sea  as  ever 


THE  HOWARDS.  31 

were  caught,  and  if  her  lover  chooses  to  go  crazy  after  mum- 
mies and  antiquities,  to  her  neglect,  why  let  him  go,  I  say," 
"  That  will  do  very  well  to  talk  to  some  of  your  clients  who 
paid  for  your  advice,'7  replied  the  father,  "but  human  nature 
is  human  nature.     Before  Miriam  dared  to  give  her  heart 
entirely  to  Hugh  Ashby,  she  consulted  me  about  it,  and  I 
gave  it  as  my  opinion  that  she  would  be  safe  in  loving  him 
if  he  loved  her;  nor  have  I  as  yet  seen  any  just  cause  for 
altering  that  opinion.     Neither  are  we  hunting  up  one  who 
has  won  her  love  only  to  desert  her.     Miriam  feels  that  there 
is  some  mysterious  cause  that  holds  him  there,  and  I  can't 
reason  her  out  of  that  fancy;  but  if  she  find  him  false  to 
her,  she  could  give  him  up  in  a  day.     And,  besides  that," 
continued  the   old  gentleman,  getting  a  little   warm,   "we 
have  the  means  to  travel  if  we  wish,  and  who  has  any  right 
to  question  our  motives  ?    All  the  use  I  ever  had  for  money, 
and  all  the  inducement  I  ever  had  for  struggling  for  its  pos- 
session, was  to  buy  happiness  for  one  of  us  four.     Money 
will  not  always  buy  happiness,  as  we  can  see  in  Miriam's 
case;  but  my  girl  shall  not  suffer  if   any  exertions  or  any 
means  of  her  old  father  will  relieve  her.     Hugh  is  not  com- 
ing home  immediately,  and  the  excitement  of  travel  will  da 
her  good,  even  if  we  do  not  go  near  him.  We  will  start,  and, 
as  we  go  along,  be  guided  by  our  own  inclinations  and  our 
own  pleasure.     What  do  you  say  to  that,  mamma  ?  " 

At  this  generous  speech  of  her  father  the  tears  rose  to 
Miriam's  eyes,  and,  rising  from  her  place  at  the  table,  she 
went  round  to  where  he  sat,  and,  throwing  her  arms  around 
his  neck,  kissed  him  over  and  over  again. 

Mr.  Howard  pushed  his  chair  back,  and  pulling  Miriam 
down  to  his  knee,  smoothed  her  hair  in  a  caressing  way  and 
pinched  her  cheek,  saying  he  must  devote  some  of  his  time 
towards  restoring  the  rosebuds  to  it,  which  in  the  last  fort- 
night had  begun  to  fade.  "And,  besides,"  he  added,  lest 
Miriam  should  shrink  from  putting  them  all  to  so  much 
trouble  on  her  own  account,  "  the  trip  will  do  mamma  good. 
I  think  we  can  bring  her  back  a  new  woman.  And  Henry, 


32  SACKIFICE. 

I  know,  will  enjoy  it,  and  for  that  matter,  profit  by  it,  too. 
Then,  for  me,  I  will  have  the  j oiliest  time  ever  a  tourist  did 
have." 

"You  ask  my  opinion  about  it,'7  said  Mrs.  Howard,  "and 
then  go  on  and  decide  what  is  to  be  done  without  giving  me 
a  chance  to  say  a  word." 

"  Well,  little  wife,  go  on,  now,  and  have  your  say.  You 
know  the  decrees  of  this  court  are  not  irrevocable.  In  fact, 
it  can  change  around  almost  as  easily  as  the  Supreme  Court 
of  California.  No  member  of  this  family  shall  be  required 
to  do  anything  absolutely  distasteful  to  him  or  her." 

"  I  would  like  the  trip,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  "  and  besides 
I  think  we  had  better  get  off  for  a  year  or  so,  for  fear  that 
papa's  stock-gambling  mania  may  lead  to  something  serious. 
Get  him  out  of  _the  way  of  temptation,  you  know." 

"Good,  good!"  laughed  Henry.  "On  that  ground,  and 
on  that  alone,  I  will  withdraw  all  objections!  I  will  be 
ready  to  start  in  ten  days  or  two  weeks  at  farthest;  as  soon 
as  I  can  get  my  business  so  arranged  that  I  can  turn  it  all 
over  to  Tom  Laine,  or,  where  he  is  interested,  to  Charley 
Silent." 

"I  admit  the  force  of  the  thrust,"  responded  Mr.  Howard, 
good-humoredly,  ' '  and  as  an  earnest  of  reformation  I  here- 
by appropriate  my  entire  winning  for  the  purposes  of  the 
expedition!  But,  dear  me,"  pulling  Miriam's  head  down 
upon  his  shoulder,  and  imprinting  a  kiss  upon  her  forehead, 
"we  have  not  had  a  word  from  Miss  Miriam.  How  does  she 
vote?" 

"  Actions,"  said  Mrs.  Howard,  "  speak  louder  than  words, 
and  those  kisses  that  papa  got  awhile  ago,  spoke  more  than 
Miriam  could  tell  in  words  in  an  hour." 

"  I  had  scarcely  dared  to  hope  for  anything  so  perfectly  in 
accordance  with  my  feelings,"  said  Miriam.  "The  only 
fear  I  have  is,  that  some  of  you  may  get  linked  in  some  way 
with  my  destiny.  I  have  felt  for  a  fortnight  past,  and  I  feel 
it  more  than  ever  this  morning,  that  I  am  being  led  by  an 
unseen  hand  on,  on,  to  what  end  God  alone  knows !" 


THE  HOWARDS.  33 

"That  must  be  the  hand  of  your  Jew  peddler,  Minnie," 
said  Henry,  lightly. 

Mr.  Howard  shook  his  head  at  his  son,  and  said:  "  We 
must  admit  that  Miriam  has  had  enough  lately  to  excite  her 
imagination  to  its  greatest  tension,  but  I  think  I  have  ac- 
counted to  her  for  everything  in  the  most  rational  manner. 
We  all  know  that  when  ofie  is  interested  in  any  matter  of 
vital  importance,  his  feelings  will  influence  him  in  spite  of 
his  better  sense;  so  we  must  not  be  too  hard  on  Miriam; 
must  we,  pet?"  again  caressing  her  fondly.  "Hugh  wrote 
some  time  ago  that  he  had  found  a  broken  tablet,  upon  which 
there  was  some  antique  record  which  he  could  not  make  out 
without  the  other  part  of  it,  and  I  will  venture  that  he  has 
vowed  to  find  that  other  piece  before  he  leaves  the  borders 
of  that  sea.  As  for  any  despondency  in  his  letters,  the  only 
wonder  is  that  they  are  not  more  so.  Other  travelers  find  it 
a  great  hardship  to  stay  there  a  week.  The  liver  becomes 
torpid,  and  such  an  extreme  drowsiness  seizes  them  that 
they  would  sleep  if  surrounded  by  hyenas;  the  very  atmo- 
sphere is  one  of  despondency.  And  as  for  the  old  Jew,  I 
think  robbery  was  his  object.  If  mamma  had  not  disturbed 
him  by  her  entrance,  we  would  have  known  all  about  him  by 
missing  articles  of  jewelry.  You  will  not  be  bothered  with 
him  again.  Mesmerism  is  no  new  thing.  Its  Professors 
have  the  person  to  sometimes  look  at  a  bright  coin,  or  per- 
haps a  brilliant  stone  is  so  much  the  better.  His  having 
a  clew  to  Hugh  answered  his  purpose  so  much  the  better." 

"  A  sensible  explanation,"  said  Henry,  "  and  one  so  clear 
that  I  wonder  how  Miriam  could  see  anything  supernatural 
in  it.  Any  of  the  spiritualist  quacks  up  at  Ban  Francisco 
will  give  you  more  of  a  mystery  for  five  dollars/' 

And  thus  they  sat  and  talked  about  the  proposed  tour, 
until  Henry,  looking  at  his  watch,  jumped  up  suddenly,  ex- 
claiming: "By  George!  it  is  nearly  eleven  o'clock,  and  I 
have  an  engagement  to  meet  a  client  at  that  hour,"  and  he 
hurried  away.  They  all  now  separated,  agreeing  to  begin 
preparations  for  the  journey. 


CHAPTER  V. 


HUGH. 
I 


*HEN  Hugh  Ashby  left  California  for  a  tour  of  the 
world,  he  chose  to  go  alone,  so  that  he  might  be 
the  master  of  his  own  actions,  and  feel  under  no 
restraint.  He  went  from  San  Francisco  westward, 
via  the  Sandwich  Islands,  Japan,  China,  India,  and 
the  several  smaller  states  of  Asia.  We  now  find  him,  one 
bright  morning,  at  the  small  city  of  Hillah,  which  is  built 
on  the  site  of  ancient  Babylon.  We  take  him  up  here — not 
that  his  travels,  up  to  this  point,  had  been  devoid  of  adven- 
ture or  interest,  but  because  it  is  here  that  events  occur 
which  are  connected  indissolubly  with  the  thread  of  this 
narrative. 

The  inhabitants — Turks,  Jews  and  Arabs — turned  to  look 
after  him  as  he  walked  the  streets  of  their  quiet  city;  and 
no  wonder,  for  Hugh  Ashby  was  as  magnificent  a  specimen 
of  young  manhood  as  one  would  find  in  many  long  travels. 
In  his  form  nature  had  been  lavish  in  her  gifts.  Of  a  noble 
physique,  tall  and  powerfully  built,  he  carried  himself  as 
proudly  erect!  as  a  Com#nche  chief.  A  face  full  of  living, 
vigorous  thought,  with  deep,  dark  eyes  flashing  out  from 
under  the  shadow  of  a  high,  massive  forehead,  from  which 
was  tossed,  in  a  careless  fashion,  the  clustering,  brown  hair. 
A  large,  yet  well-formed  nose,  and  mouth,  shaded  by  its 
heavy  mustache,  closing  firmly  upon  the  rows  of  regular, 
white,  strong-looking  teeth — the  unshaven  chin,  with  its 
tawny,  sun-bleached  beard,  reaching  nearly  to  his  waist,  a 
tout  ensemble  which  made  a  picture  of  manly  beauty,  in  which 
determination  and  strength  of  character  were  visible  in 
every  feature. 

As  Hugh  wended  his  way  through  the  queer  little  Asiatic 
city,  he  could  not  have  attracted  more  attention  had  he  been 


HUGH.  35 

one  of  the  lions  from  the  cave  in  which  Daniel  was  cast;  but 
he  walked  on,  seemingly  wholly  oblivious  of  their  curious 
regards. 

He  continued  his  course  along  the  banks  of  the  Euphrates, 
and  thence  down  that  stream  for  a  mile  or  more;  then 
turned  off  at  right  angles  to  the  river,  until  he  came  to  a 
mound  that  seemed  larger  than  the  rest.  There  is  nothing 
now  left  to  the  eye  of  the  traveler  except  a  large  number  of 
these  elevations,  or  "heaps."  Hugh  climbed  to  the  top  of 
this,  and  sat  contemplating  the  fate  of  the  most  magnificent 
city  the  world  ever  saw,  but  which  would,  perhaps,  have  had 
no  history,  had  not  Nebuchadnezzar  taken  a  fancy  to  capture 
the  Israelites  and  carry  them  in  captivity  into  his  realm. 
Yet  it  was  from  Babylon  that  the  Greeks  derived  their 
learning. 

"  How  fleeting,"  exclaimed  Hugh,  aloud,  "  are  all  earthly 
things!  Here,  a  few  short  years  ago,  dwelt  a  people  capa- 
ble of  building  a  brick  wall  around  their  city  fifty-six  miles 
long  and  three  hundred  and  thirty-five  feet  high !  '  Babylon 
shall  become  heaps,'  wrote  the  prophet,  even  while  she  was 
in  the  meridian  of  her  glory,  and  'heaps'  it  is!  What 
would  give  a  people  a  more  complete  idea'  of  permanence 
than  the  works  which  then  existed  around  about,  and  in  this 
city;  but  decay  marks  everything  human.  When  man  grows 
so  wise  and  so  proud,  as  to  mock  God,  his  overthrow  is 
certain!  'Thy  wisdom  and  thy  knowledge  hath  perverted 
thee,'  said  Isaiah  to  the  Babylonians,  and  it  seems  to  per- 
vert all  humanity.  No  sooner  does  man  get  a  smattering 
of  knowledge  than  he  denies  God.  Is  not  the  nineteenth 
century  bringing  the  desolation  of  Babylon  on  its  civiliza- 
tion ?  Oh,  that  the  presumptuous  infidel  could  but  see  and 
feel  the  lessons  taught  by  thee,  O  Babylon !  " 

'*  Does  de  shentleman's  vant  von  guide  ?"  said  a  voice  at 
his  elbow. 

Hugh  looked  up  in  astonishment  that  there  was  a  living 
soul  near  him,  for  he  had  only  a  short  time  before  cast  his 


36  SACRIFICE. 

eyes  around  the  entire  horizon  scanning  the  country  far  and 
near. 

11 1  was  not  looking  for  a  guide  just  yet,"  replied  he.  "I 
preferred  first  to  take  a  look  around,  alone,  but  I  may  want 
some  assistance  after  awhile;  especially  some  strong  hands 
to  help  remove  a  quantity  of  earth.  But,"  he  added,  notic- 
ing- that  his  companion  was  a  diminutive  old  Jew,  "I  do  not 
think  jrou  would  be  very  good  at  such  work." 

"  Better,  maybes,  dan  you  dinks." 

"  How  long  have  you  been  hereabouts?  " 

"Oh,  so  long  dime.     Somedimes  here,  somedimes  dere." 

"  Where  did  you  get  a  knowledge  of  English  ?  " 

"I  peeks  him  up.  I  travels  great  deal.  I  vas  in  England 
von  dimes.  Yas  de  shentleman's  English  ?  " 

"No;  American." 

"  Von  'Merican,  eh?  I  never  been  in 'Merica.  Does  de 
shentlemans  expect  to  stay  here  long  ?  " 

"That  depends  on  circumstances.  I  shall  stay  until  I  get 
tired,  then  move  on." 

"  But  does  he  vish  to  find  somedings?  " 

"That  is  my  wish.     Can  you  assist  me  in  that  line  ?  " 

"It  bees  very  hard  to  dells  vat  is  under  de  ground,  but 
I  sees  very  much  about  dese  dings,  an'  I  study  'bout  him. 
If  de  shentlemans  bays  ine  for  mine  knowledge,  why  I  gifs 
it  to  him." 

' '  How  much  pay  do  you  expect  ?  " 

"  Nobody  ever  find  anydings  here  dat  ish  worth  anydings. 
Dey  finds  somedimes  leetle  pot;  somedimes  de  brick  mit  de 
mark  vat  dey  reads  leetle  bit:  but,  you  sees,  dis  de  richest 
city  ever  de  vorld  saw.  Dere  bees  golt  and  much  curious 
dings  somewhere  here.  I  dinks  I  guess  vhere  to  find  him. 
Now  if  de  shentlemans  haf  de  means  to  vork/  and  I  dells 
him  vhere  to  vork  and  he  finds  de  curious  dings,  he  keeps 
him;  but  if  he  finds  de  golt  dings  I  dakes  half." 

"  Ah,  I  see  it  is  a  little  game  you  have  where  there  is  some 
chance  to  win  and  no  chance  to  lose.  If  a  dozen  or  so  of 
tourists  would  take  up  with  your  exceedingly  fair  proposi- 


HUGH.  37 

tion,  they  might  hit  on  something;  and  you  would  not  be  out 
a  great  deal,  if  they  did  not." 

"Veil,  I  dells  you.  If  de  shentlemans  lets  me  serve  he 
can  gifs  me  anydings  vhat  he  bleases.  Is  dat  a  fair  game." 

"  That  is  more  like  it;  but  I  am  free  to  tell  you  that  I  do 
not  expect  to  find  'de  golf;  if  I  find  Jde  curious,'  I  shall 
be  satisfied.  When  can  you  get  me  some  men  to  put  to 
work  ?  " 

"  I  gets  him  to-morrow." 

"All  right.  You  get  a  lot  of  men,  and  put  them  to  work 
where  you  think  best;  in  the  meantime  I  will  make  such 
explorations  as  will  suit  my  own  fancy." 

"  Can  de  shentlemans  get  von  guard  from  de  Government  ? 
If  he  finds  somedings,  some  golt,  de  robbers  dey  take  him." 

' '  We  will  see  what  we  find  first.  But  as  you  are  after  'de 
golt,'  and  I  after  'de  curious,'  you  have  the  greatest  chance 
to  take,  and  I  will  risk  as  cunning  an  old  rascal  as  you  seem 
to  be  on  that,  and  you  and  I  will  not  fight." 

' '  Yight ! "  exclaimed  the  Jew,  looking  at  the  powerful 
form  of  his  companion,  and  then  at  his  own  diminutive  self. 
"Vight!  I  dinks  not!" 

"  Have  you  a  house  in  the  city  ?  " 

"I  hafe  not.  I  just  travels  about.  If  de  shentlemans 
vants  to  bay  de  beels,  I  bees  his  servant  at  de  inn;  an'  I 
dells  him  heep  dings.  I  no  lets  de  beeples  scheat  him." 

"  That  would  seem  to  be  a  very  good  engagement,"  said 
Hugh;  "but,  look  here,"  he  added,  as  an  idea  seemed  to 
strike  him,  ' '  if  you  go  to  playing  any  of  your  cunning  tricks 
on  me,  I  will  break  every  bone  in  that  little  old  body  of 
yours.  I'll  do  it,  if  I  have  to  follow  you  to  the  bottom  of 
the  sea." 

"De  bottoms  of  de  sea!"  exclaimed  the  Jew.  "Vould 
the  shentlemans  like  to  go  dere  ?  " 

"I  can't  say  I  would  prefer  it  as  a  pleasure  trip;  but, 
mind  you,  I  will  break  every  bone  in  your  body,  one  by  one, 
if  I  have  to  go  there  after  you,  if  you  attempt  to  play  any  of 
your  cunning  rascality  on  me.  But  let  us  return  to  the  city." 


38  SACRIFICE. 

Side  by  side,  Hugh  Ashby  and  the  Jew  entered  the  city 
of  Hillah,  and  again  the  people  stared  and  wondered.  The 
Jew  was  known  in  the  city.  He  had  been  there  often,  and 
had  traded  with  most  of  the  inhabitants.  The  contrast 
between  the  two  was  so  great,  in  every  respect,  as  to  cause 
remark,  even  by  the  children. 

"De  shentlemans  speaks  de  language  of  dese  beeples, 
does  he  ?  "  inquired  the  Jew,  as  they  made  their  way  through 
the  town. 

"Slightly,"  responded  Hugh;  "in  my  travels  I  have 
picked  up  a  smattering  of  many  languages." 

"  Hafe  he  spoke  to  any  of  dem  yet,  at  de  inn  ?  " 

"I  have  not,  thinking  it  better  for  them  to  think  for  a 
while  that  I  do  not  understand  them." 

"Den  you  keeps  dat  up,  and  I  bees  de  interpreter!" 

"By  the  way,"  said  Hugh,  "what  shall  I  call  you? 
What  is  your  name?  It  would  not  do  very  well  for  me  to 
have  a  servant  and  not  know  his  name." 

"Yell,  Isaac  vill  do — de  beeples  here  calls  me  dat.  And 
do  shentleman's  name?" 

"Is  Hugh  Ashby." 

A  motley  group  of  ragged  urchins,  women  and  loafers, 
here  impeded  their  progress.  Looking  into  the  midst  of 
the  crowd,  Hugh  saw  that  a  camel  had  fallen  under  the 
weight  of  its  pack,  and  that  a  stout,  beastly-looking  Arab 
was  pummelling  it  over  the  head,  to  make  it  rise,  while  the 
poor  creature  was  moaning  piteously.  Hugh  pushed  his 
way  through  the  crowd,  followed  by  Isaac.  "Tell  the  fel- 
low," said  he,  "to  stop  beating  that  poor  brute." 

Isaac  obeyed  in  as  imposing  a  voice  as  it  was  possible  for 
him  to  assume.  The  Arab  looked  at  him  in  utter  astonish- 
ment; then  gathering  the  club  which  he  had  been  wielding 
so  unmercifully,  in  both  his  hands,  he  made  a  desperate 
pass  at  the  head  of  the  old  Jew,  but  the  blow  was  arrested 
by  another,  for  Hugh  struck  the  savage  squarely  between 
the  eyes,  and  laid  him  senseless  on  the  ground.  At  this, 
two  or  three  of  the  friends  of  the  fallen  man  rushed  upon 


HUGH.  39 

Hugh,  but  one  blow  from  his  powerful  fist  sent  them  howl- 
ing away.  Hugh  then  spoke  kindly  to  the  animal,  which 
seemed  to  know  what  all  the  tormoil  was  about.  With  his 
great  strong  arms  he  took  hold  of  the  pack  and  the  camel 
making  an  effort  at  the  same  time,  arose  to  its  feet.  At  this, 
a  number  of  the  bystanders  cheered  the  stranger;  but  the 
friends  of  the  defeated  party  looked  sullen,  and  low,  threat- 
ening mutterings  were  heard  from  among  them.  Isaac's  eyes 
sparkled  with  a  delight  which  seemed  to  have  been  for  long 
years  a  stranger  to  them,  and  clasping  his  hands  with  an 
eager,  satisfied  motion,  whispered  half  aloud,  ' '  Eureka !  " 

"  Dat  vas  very  goot;  but  it  vas  very  bad,"  said  he  to  Hugh, 
as  they  were  leaving  the  scene. 

"How  do  you  make  that  out." 

' '  It  was  goot  for  de  shentlemans  to  show  de  mercy  to  de 
boor  animal;  it  shows  von  goot  heart,  but  I  bees  very  much 
'fraid  dat  it  no  goot  for  de  shentlemans,  and  maybe  no  goot 
for  me;  dese  beeples  never  forgets,  and  we  got  to  keeps  von 
eye  open  all  de  dimes.  Dey  do  us  von  harm  if  dey  get  von 
chance." 

"  Sufficient  to  the  day  is  the  evil  thereof.  I  never  allow 
myself  to  be  disturbed  by  future  trouble.  If  a  man  does  as 
near  right  as  he  knows  how,  I  have  an  abiding  faith  in  the 
certainty  of  his  coming  out  all  right  some  way  or  other. 
What  is  your  philosophy  ?  " 

"Veil,  I  dinks  diplomacy  is  somedimes  necessary.  If  I 
vas  von  big  strong  man,  I  maybe  goes  straight  along  like  de 
shentlemans,  bub  von  veak  old  man  must  blay  de  cunnings." 

"I  hardly  think  it  necessary,  even  in  your  case.  Straight- 
forwardness always  brings  its  own  reward.  I  think  I  will 
make  you  see  that  if  we  stay  together  long." 

"An'  maybees  I  makes  you  see  de  value  of  von  leetle  bit 
deception  on  some  beeples." 

"You  think  that  if  I  go  straight  forward,  and  you  are 
deceptive,  you  can  get  the  better  of  me,  eh?  But  remem- 
ber what  I  told  you." 

"  Dere  shall  be  no  deception  mit  de  shentlemans.     Dat  is 


40  SACBIPICE. 

for  de  odder  kinds  of  beeples.  De  slientlemans  go  straight 
ahead  mit  de  knock-down,  an'  I  brings  up  de  rear  rait  de 
leetle  bit  cunnings.  It  makes  von  goot  partnership  bees- 
ness  ! "  And  Isaac  chuckled  at  what  seemed  to  him  a  happy 
conception. 

"  Well,  we  will  try  it  that  way  awhile." 

"What  a  queer  genius  my  'partner'  is!"  said  Hugh  to 
himself  after  he  had  reached  his  room  at  the  inn.  "I  feel 
that  I  am  not  to  get  clear  of  him  in  a  day.  But,  while  he 
seems  to  be  a  cunning  old  rogue,  I  do  not  think  there  is  any 
harm  in  him.  He  is  fond  of  gold,  but  would  commit  no 
crime  beyond  lying  to  gain  it." 


CHAPTER   VI. 


NEBUCHODNEZZER'S  PALACE, 

sHE  place  selected  by  Isaac  for  excavation  was  down 
the  Euphrates,  some  three  miles  from  Hillah,  and 
about  the  same  distance  back  from  the  river.  The 
"  heap  "  was  not  so  large  as  some  others  in  proximity 
to  it,  but  was  about  one  hundred  and  forty  feet  above 
the  level  of  the  plain,  and  covered  about  ten  acres,  with  a 
perceptible  elevation  extending  down  to  the  river  bank. 
Hugh  had  no  faith  in  the  result  of  the  work;  but  as  the 
laborers,  after  the  first  few  days,  began  to  bring  out  some 
curiously -wrought  alabaster  vases,  some  of  which  bore 
inscriptions  which  he  could  busy  himself  in  deciphering, 
he  let  it  continue.  Although  this  was  not  the  mound  El 
Kars,  which  the  natives  point  out  as  the  grand  palace  of 
Nebuchodnezzer,  yet  the  brick  taken  out  had  each  been 
stamped:  "  Grand  Palace  of  Nebuchodnezzer — King  of 
Babylon,"  and  some  double  bricks  or  slabs,  which  had  been 
used  in  heading  courses  in  the  walls,  bore  the  further  legend: 
"  Son  of  Nebopolassor,  who  walked  in  the  worship  of  Nebo 
and  Merodach  his  lord."  These  slabs,  being  the  same  as 
those  described  by  other  archaeologists,  Hugh  concluded 
that  he  had  found  the  second  palace,  or  that  he  was  perhaps 
working  on  the  same  ground,  although  the  description  did 
not  correspond.  In  about  two  weeks  they  were  rewarded  by 
striking  the  solid  brick  wall,  which,  after  much  difficulty  in 
cutting  through,  they  found  admitted  them  into  a  spacious 
room.  Hugh  was  highly  gratified  at  the  thought  that  now 
he  could  view  with  his  own  eyes  at  least  one  room  of  the 
grand  palace  of  the  great  Babylonian  monarch.  They  had 
tunnelled  into  the  ruin  on  almost  a  level  with  the  plain,  and 
the  entrance  they  had  now  made  was  some  thirty  feet  below 
them,  showing  that  in  the  ages  past  the  country  had  gradu- 


42  SACRIFICE. 

ally  filled  up.  The  workmen  having  made  a  ladder  and 
placed  it  in  the  aperture,  Hugh  clambered  eagerly  down  it, 
followed  by  Isaac.  Their  curiosity  did  not  seem  to  be 
shared  by  the  native  laborers,  for  they  remained  on  the  out- 
side, squatting  upon  the  ground,  smoking  and  chatting  to 
one  another.  From  what  our  adventurers  could  see  in  the 
dim  light  which  shone  in  through  the  opening  at  which  they 
had  entered,  it  was  evident  to  them  that  this  was  the  ground 
floor  of  the  palace;  and  eager  as  Hugh  was  to  see  more,  he 
was  compelled  to  wait,  for  lack  of  necessary  torches,  etc. 
So  again  mounting  to  the  earth's  surface,  they  returned  to 
the  city  to  supply  themselves  with  the  necessaries  for  an 
extended  exploration. 

The  next  morning's  sun  found  them  upon  the  scene,  sup- 
plied with  torches,  candles,  ropes — in  fact,  everything  which 
could  be  needed  for  their  purpose.  The  Arabs  were 
employed  in  carrying  these  things  down  the  ladder,  notwith- 
standing an  evident  unwillingness  to  enter  the  ruin.  Promi- 
nent among  the  articles  carried  down,  was  a  basket  contain- 
ing eatables,  for  Hugh  had  resolved  to  spend  the  entire  day 
in  this  place.  He  also  took  a  quantity  of  candles  and  lamps 
so  as  to  be  able  to  light  up  any  apartment  he  might  wish  to 
examine.  He  now  discharged  his  gang  of  laborers,  enjoin- 
ing them  to  be  near  at  hand  in  case  their  services  were 
needed.  He  had  desired  a  couple  of  them  to  accompany 
him,  but  they  absolutely  refused  to  go;  so  Hugh,  followed 
by  the  Jew,  alone  entered  the  grand  palace  of  Nebuchod- 
nezzer. 

Lighting  their  lamps,  they  gazed  around.  They  found 
they  were  in  a  lofty  room  some  fifty  feet  wide;  the  length 
was  a  matter  of  speculation,  for  one  end  of  the  ceiling  had 
given  way,  leaving  only  about  thirty  feet  clear  in  that  direc- 
tion. The  floor  was  of  polished  marble  and  covered  with 
the  dust  of  centuries.  The  ceiling,  nearly  sixty  feet  high, 
was  supported  by  a  succession  of  arches,  and  the  walls  were 
covered  with  a  cement  harder  than  marble,  an  inch  or  more 
in  thickness,  which  retained  in  spots  mucli  of  its  whiteness,. 


even  at  this  date.  No  vestige  of  furniture  could  be  found,  or 
anything  else,  to  denote  that  this  room  had  once  been  the 
abode  of  living,  breathing  beings  like  themselves.  As  Hugh,, 
holding  high  his  torch,  and  flashing  it  hither  and  thither, 
took  in  more  fully  the  grand  proportions  of  this  apartment,- 
a  portion  of  what  was  once  the  most  magnificent  edifice  in 
the  world,  a  feeling  of  awe  stole  upon  him  that  perhaps  his 
was  the  first  human  foot,  since  the  suffering  of  Christ  on  the 
Cross,  which  had  dared  to  invade  this  domain  of  silence  and 
decay.  On  the  side  of  the  room  opposite  to  the  passage 
which  they  had  made  was  a  doorway  opening  into  a  corridor 
some  seventy-five  feet  wide.  Over  this,  in  bold  Chaldaic 
characters,  which  Hugh  had  little  diificulty  in  deciphering, 
was  the  following  inscription : 

' '  Grand  Palace  of  Nebuchodnezzer,  King  of  Babylon,  which 
shall  stand  forever  and  forever,  as  an  evidence  of  his  greatness." 

He  was  about  to  pass  into  the  corridor  when  Isaac  called 
his  attention  to  another  less  prominent  inscription,  and  in 
another  language.  The  first  had  been  cut  deep  into  the 
wall  and  the  hard  cement  put  on  afterwards,  showing  that 
it  had  been  placed  there  when  the  palace  was  built;  but  this 
legend  was  in  smaller  characters,  and  though  it  bore  the 
impress  of  age,  it  had  evidently  been  cut  with  some  sharp 
instrument  after  the  cement  had  been  put  on  the  walls. 

"  This,"  said  Hugh,  "  seems  to  be  in  the  Hebrew  language 
of  about  the  time  of  your  boyhood,  Isaac;  therefore,  I  will 
let  you  read  it." 

"I  bees  not  von  great  scholars,  like  Meester  Ashby,  but  I 
vill  help  him  to  reads  him." 

Together  they  ciphered  it  out,  and  Hugh  wrote  in  his  note- 
book: 

"In  this  room  dwelleth  Daniel,  the  servant  of  the  living 
God.  Blessed  art  Thou,  O  Lord,  the  God  of  Israel.  Be- 
sides Thee,  there  is  nothing  else.  When  Thine  anger 
cometh,  nations  and  peoples  shall  be  swept  away." 

"  Quite  a  difference  in  the  tone  of  the  two  inscriptions," 
remarked  Hugh.  "The  one  depending  on  the  works  of 


44  SACRIFICE. 

man  to  make  his  name  remembered  of  men,  the  other 
exalting  the  Creator  of  the  universe.  Oh,  how  vain  are  the 
longings  of  the  human  heart  for  earthly  fame !  Hundreds 
of  thousands  of  men  obeyed  the  nod  of  Nebuchodnezzer, 
while  Daniel  sought  only  the  favor  of  the  living  God. 
Which  of  the  two  was  truly  great?  Oh,  that  all  men  could 
read  these  two  inscriptions  and  choose  between  them ! " 

Hugh  and  his  companion,  finding  themselves  getting  both 
hungry  and  thirsty,  concluded  to  turn  their  explorations  in 
another  direction — that  is,  towards  the  lunch  basket.  After 
satisfying  the  present  wants  of  the  inner  man,  Hugh  con- 
cluded that  it  would  be  a  wise  plan  for  them  to  put  the  rem- 
nants of  their  luncheon  into  their  pockets.  "For,"  said  he, 
"  this  underground  work  makes  a  fellow  pretty  hungry.  And 
I  am  afraid  we  will  both  get  thirsty  before  night,  for  I  see, 
from  appearances  of  our  water  bottle,  that  we  have  not  been 
very  sparing  of  its  contents." 

"  Dis  dust  makes  von's  throat  very  dry." 

"Well,  let's  waste  no  more  time  here.  Come  on,  and  we 
will  see  what  these  old  ruins  have  so  jealously  hidden  from 
human  eyes  for  so  long — whether  the  most  'golf  or  the  most 
'curious.'7' 

Binding  a  bundle  of  torches  each  across  their  shoulders, 
and  filling  their  remaining  pockets  with  candles,  they  pro- 
ceeded on  their  tour  of  investigation. 

With  flaming  torch  in  hand  they  now  entered  what  evi- 
dently had  been  the  grand  entrance  hall  of  the  palace.  It, 
too,  was  supported  by  arches,  and  plastered  with  the  same 
marble-like  cement  as  before  mentioned,  as,  indeed,  were 
all  the  rooms  they  discovered,  and  which  seemed  so  entirely 
impervious  to  water  as  to  keep  the  vast,  cavernous  rooms 
comparatively  dry.  Leaving  a  lamp  burning  at  the  door- 
way, to  guide  their  return,  they  made  their  way  down  this 
immense  corridor.  At  regular  intervals  in  the  walls,  on 
-both  sides,  were  numerous  other  door-ways;  but  the  rooms 
to  which  they  communicate^  were  so  filled  up,  by  the  col- 
lapse of  the  ceilings,  with  dirt  and  debris,  as  to  entirely 


NEBUCHODNEZZER'S  PALACE.  45 

close  up  the  entrance.  Over  every  door  was  an  inscription 
relating  to  the  palace  and  the  greatness  of  the  King. 
Another  thing  which  Hugh  remarked  was  the  absence  of  all 
timber  in  this  huge  structure — no  wood  whatever  had  been 
used,  unless,  perhaps,  in  the  doors,  no  trace  of  which,  how- 
ever, now  remained. 

Several  hundred  feet  had  been  traversed  without  anything 
of  special  interest  except  the  inscription,  over  which  they 
had  spent  much  time,  when  Hugh,  who  always  walked  in 
advance,  came  across  a  colossal  statue,  which  had  fallen  to 
the  floor. 

"Hallo!"  exclaimed  he.  "I  think  we  must  have  found 
old  Nebuchodnezzer  himself! " 

Upon  examination  they  found  that  it  had  fallen  from  its 
place,  beside  an  arched  doorway,  higher  and  wider  than 
any  of  the  others.  Although  broken,  the  fragments  were  all 
there — the  head  and  features  were  perfect,  and  the  arms  and 
legs,  though  in  small  pieces,  were  easily  matched.  It  had 
stood  on  a  pedestal  about  five  feet  high,  so  that  a  man's 
shoulder  would  have  been  about  even  with  the  feet.  The 
statue  itself  must  have  been  at  least  thirty  feet  in  height, 
which,  by-the-way,  was  rather  small  for  one  of  Nebuchod- 
nezzer's  ideas.  On  the  base  of  the  pedestal  they  found  the 
following : 

' '  Nebuchodnezzer,  the  great  king  of  Babylon,  who  con- 
quered the  world  and  built  a  great  city  and  magnificent 
palaces,  which  shall  stand  forever  and  forever.  Am  I  not 
Nebuchodnezzer,  and  have  I  not  builded  Babylon?  Then 
who  shall  destroy  the  works  of  my  hand?  " 

Although  Hugh  Ashby  was  an  accomplished  linguist  and 
had  made  a  special  study  of  the  ancient  Chaldean,  and,  in 
the  two  years  he  had  been  in  Asia,  had  become  quite  an 
archaeologist,  yet  he  found  himself  greatly  assisted  in 
deciphering  these  inscriptions  by  the  unpretending  little  old 
Jew,  who  seemed  to  always  make  the  right  suggestion  at  the 
right  time.  Hugh  asked  him  how  it  happened  that  he 
possessed  so  much  learning,  to  which  he  replied : 


46  SACRIFICE. 

' '  Oh,  I  travels  very  much,  and  learn  leetle  here  and  leetle 
dere.  I  vas  somedimes,  too,  mit  de  shentlemens  dat  hunt 
for  some  old  dings.  I  vas  mit  von  Englishmans — Me  ester 
Layard,  ven  he  vas  vorking  on  Nineveh." 

"Then  you  have  had  experience  in  these  matters.  But 
we  have  spent  enough  time  in  here  for  one  day.  I  hardly 
think  it  healthy  to  remain  here  very  long.  Good  Heavens! " 
Jie  exclaimed,  on  looking  at  his  watch,  "  'tis  after  dark  now! 
Had  you  any  idea  that  we  had  been  in  here  so  long  as  that  ?  " 

"I  knows  de  dimes  vas  slipping  avay." 

"  Well,  we  must  get  out  of  here.  We  will  come  back  to- 
morrow, with  force  enough  to  take  this  statue  out.  A  genu- 
ine statue  of  Nebuchodnezzer  will  be  quite  a  trophy,  I  can 
tell  you.  I  believe,  under  the  terms  of  our  agreement,  this 
is  mine;  but  if  we  can  succeed  in  getting  it  out  and  put  to- 
gether, you  shall  have  no  reason  to  grumble  at  the  part  you 
have  taken  in  this  affair.  Why,  this  alone  is  worth  coming 
to  Babylon  for!" 

Hugh  was  in  high  spirits,  and  was  already  debating  in  his 
•own  mind  the  best  method  of  getting  the  statue  from  the 
ruin  to  the  river's  bank,  from  whence  it  could  be  shipped  to 
San  Francisco,  for  he  had  already  determined  on  presenting 
it  to  that  city.  On  returning  to  "Daniel's  room,"  where  the 
lamp  had  been  left  burning,  they  found  to  their  annoyance 
that  the  ladder  by  which  they  were  to  reach  the  outer  world 
liad  been  removed,  as  also  the  spades  and  picks. 

"  The  rascally  Arabs  have  played  a  practical  joke  on  us," 
•said  Hugh,  "but  as  there  is  plenty  of  debris  here,  we  can 
build  steps  up  to  the  outlet." 

They  both  commenced  working  with  a  will.  Hugh  with 
his  powerful  arms  rolling  under  the  orifice  great  blocks  of 
.stone,  at  which  the  poor,  little,  weak  old  Jew  tugged  in 
vain.  Then  carrying  the  loosened  brick,  they  piled  them  up 
as  high  as  Hugh  could  reach  when  standing  on  the  stones 
which  formed  the  foundation  to  his  impromptu  stairway. 
Now  came  the  greatest  difficulty  in  their  work,  for  they  were 
obliged  to  clamber  up  this  uncertain  ascent  with  their  load 


NEBUCHODNEZZER'S  PALACE.  47 

of  brick,  often  losing  their  footing  and  falling  to  the  floor. 
Hugh's  watch  told  him  that  it  was  daylight  by  the  time  they 
had  gotten  high  enough  to  reach  the  opening,  and  both  were 
well  nigh  exhausted.  Pulling  himself  with  his  hands  up  to 
a  level  with  it,  Hugh  dropped  back. 

"  Isaac,"  he  said,  "  hand  me  up  that  torch." 

The  light  was  handed  him  and  he  made  a  complete  exam- 
ination, then  with  torch  in  hand  made  his  way  down  the 
shaking,  improvised  steps. 

"Isaac,"  he  hoarsely  whispered,  "the  aperture  is  closed! 
We  are  buried !  Buried  alive ! " 

"Mine  Got!  Mine  Got!"  exclaimed  Isaac,  in  the  most 
piteous  tones.  "Puried!  Puried  alive!  Mine  Got!  Mine 
Got!  Mine  Got!" 

"  They  have  rolled  a  huge  stone  against  the  opening,  that 
it  must  have  tak^n  at  least  ten  men  to  place  there;  and,  what 
is  worse,  they  have  taken  away  the  drift  timbers,  and  let  the 
sand  and  debris  fall  in  and  close  the  tunnel.  Even  were  we 
through  this  wall — and  that  would  take  us  a  month,  at  least — 
we  could  not  work  our  way  out  without  timbers  to  uphold 
the  falling  sand." 

"  Oh,  dem  Arab!  dem  Arab!  He  got  even  on  you  for  de 
knock  him  down.  Oh,  oh!"  and  Isaac,  falling  upon  his 
knees,  beat  his  breast  and  seemed  like  a  man  half  demented. 

To  say  that  Hugh  Ashby  was  not  horror-stricken  ai>  the 
situation  would  be  claiming  for  him  attributes  more  than 
human.  The  scenes  and  actions  of  his  life  passed  in  rapid 
review  before  his  mental  vision.  He  thought  of  one  far, 
far  away,  awaiting  his  return,  and  pictured  her  sad  face  as 
day  after  day  and  year  after  year  passed  away,  with  no  tid- 
ings of  one  who  had  promised  to  be  true  to  her  till  his 
latest  breath. 

"In  this  room,"  he  soliloquized,  "the  great  prophet 
Daniel  invoked  the  aid  of  the  Almighty;  from  here  he 
walked  with  a  firm  step  to  the  den  of  lions,  trusting  in  the 
power  of  the  Most  High  to  save  him.  God  is  the  same — 
yesterday,  now  and  forever,  helping  those  who  trust  in  Him 


48  SACRIFICE. 

and  walk  in  His  ways.  O  Daniel!"  he  exclaimed,  drop- 
ping on  his  knees,  ' '  if  thy  spirit  still  hovers  around  this, 
place  and  can  hear  the  voice  of  one  in  tribulation,  help  me, 
I  beseech  you,  to  pray  to  the  God  of  Israel  for  deliverance 
from  this  awful  doom!  Incline,  O  my  God,  thy  ear,  and 
hear;  open  thy  eyes  and  see  our  desolation.  Should  it 
please  thee  that  now  we  should  die,  help  us  to  bear  with 
patience  and  fortitude  all  that  is  before  us.  Help  us,  O 
Jesus,  to  remember  thy  sufferings  on  Calvary,  and  let  not 
our  lips  murmur  against  thy  divine  will,  whatever  may  befall 
us;  whatever  we  may  suffer,  thou,  O  Lord,  hast  given  us 
life,  and  thou,  O  Lord,  shalt  take  it  away — blessed  be  thy 
holy  name  forever !  " 

Hugh  arose  to  his  feet  and  approached  Isaac,  who  was  yet 
bent  over,  with  his  face  touching  the  floor  and  moaning 
most  piteously. 

" Isaac,"  he  said,  peremptorily;  "get  up,  man!  This  is  a 
time  for  cool,  collected  action,  and.  not  for  weak,  womanish 
tears.  We  must  work,  now — work  with  a  will — work  as 
never  before  men  worked.  And,  Isaac,  do  you  ever  pray 
to  the  God  of  your  fathers  ?  My  mother  taught  me,  when 
first  my  infant  tongue  could  lisp,  to  call  confidently  on  the 
help  of  God  in  every  emergency;  then  to  do  what  seemed 
right  to  me  after,  prayer,  and  leave  the  ,rest  to  Him  wh  o 
holds  the  earth  in  the  hollow  of  His  hand,  and  notes  even 
the  fall  of  the  sparrow." 

And  the  Jew,  rising  to  his  feet,  murmured,  "At  last!" 


CHAPTER  VII.         ^  ! 

MENE,  THECAL,  PHAKES. 

>OW,"  said  Hugh,  "what  is  our  first  step?  It  is 
quite  evident  there  is  no  escape  in  this  direction. 
We  each  have  a  hatchet,  and  we  have  also  some 
cord  which  may  be  of  value.  Our  lamps  are  use- 
less, because  we  cannot  carry  them  with  us.  We 
have,  however,  candles  and  torches  enough  to  last  us  some 
days;  these  are  light  and  we  can  carry  them.  I  think  there 
is  no  use  in  coming  back  here.  We  have  examined  this  part 
of  the  ruin  pretty  thoroughly;  nevertheless,  we  will  leave 
our  largest  lamp  burning  in  the  doorway  of  this  room,  so 
that  we  can  identify  it;  for,  if  we  should  give  up  all  hope,  I 
would  like  to  drag  myself  back  here  to  die.  It  would  be 
some  consolation  to  die  in  the  room  in  which  Daniel  prayed . 
We  have  still  a  little  of  our  lunch  left,  perhaps  enough  for 
one  meal  for  one  man,  and  this  we  must  eke  out  as  best  we 
may.  But  all  our  water  is  gone,  Isaac.  If  we  are  to  die  here, 
it  is  to  be  from  thirst,  and  that  is  said  to  be  a  horrible 
death.  Here,  Isaac,  you  take  this  small  bundle  of  torches — 
they  are  light — and  I  will  carry  the  rest.  Let  us  start  on 
with  a  candle,  and  use  the  torches  only  for  examinations. 
We  must  be  saving  of  our  light;  that  is  our  sole  dependence. 
Let  us  both  take  some  matches,  and  be  sure  you  keep  them 
in  a  safe  place.  Now  we  are  ready  for  our  tour  of  inspec- 
tion." 

"  Haf  Meester  Ashby  von  plan — von  idea?  " 
"  I  can't  say  that  I  have  any  very  definite  plan;  but  I  have 
more,  I  have  faith.  We  know  that  the  extreme  top  of  this 
mound  is  about  one  hundred  and  seventy  feet  above  this 
floor.  It  may  be  that  we  can  find  where  some  wall  has  fallen 
down,  and  in  which  we  can  climb  to  the  arch,  at  least.  Per- 
haps a  kind  Providence  may  smile  on  us,  and  show  us  some 


50  SACBIFICE. 

place  caved  in  almost  to  the  top.  I  have  an  idea,  too,  Isaac, 
that  these  ruins  must  have  some  outlet.  When  we  first 
entered  here  yesterday  the  air  was  bad;  this  morning  it  was 
tolerable,  and  it  has  got  no  worse  as  we  have  made  our  way 
farther  in.  There  was  air  in  here  before  we  let  it  in.  If  the 
standing  portion  of  these  ruins  is  not  very  extensive  we  have 
a  chance  to  find  the  outlet." 

"  If  dere  bees  von,"  doubtingly  said  Isaac. 

"  Have  you  any  ideas  to  suggest  ?" 

"I  vill  follow  de  shentlemans,  an'  do  all  de  dings  vat  he 
dells  me." 

"  I  propose  to  walk  around  and  through  these  ruins,  till 
we  find  some  avenue  of  escape,  or  until  we  give  up  all  hope. 
By  action,  we  will  avoid  the  pain  of  too  much  thought  about 
the  situation.  In  almost  every  phase  vof  life  there  is  pleas- 
ure in  action.  Every  rightly-constructed  man  is  happier 
when  he  is  at  work.  Nature  abhors  a  drone  as  much  as  she 
does  a  vacuum.  We  may  ask  God  to  help  us,  and  we  must 
have  faith  in  His  doing  so;  but  we  must  cooperate  with  Him 
by  our  own  exertions.  He  puts  us  here  to  work,  and  he  is 
displeased  when  we  fail  to  perform  our  mission." 

"  I  does  not  sees  much  room  for  hope,  Meester  Ashby," 
despondingly  said  Isaac. 

"As  long  as  there  is  life  there  is  hope;  and,  anyhow,  we 
can  see  what  there  is  here.  Why  should  we  begin  to  tor- 
ture ourselves  as  soon  as  we  conclude  that  the  chances  are 
against  us  ?  We  all  know  that  we  have  got  one  time  to  die, 
and  that  it  is  uncertain  at  what  moment  that  event  may  hap- 
pen. Why,  therefore,  should  we  care  whether  death  comes  to 
us  here  in  this  darksome  place,  or  out  in  God's  glorious  sun- 
shine?" 

"  But  dis  awful  blace,  Meester  Ashby;  dis  awful  blace!  " 
exclaimed  Isaac,  in  heart-rending  accents. 

"Come,  be  a  man!  I  can't  feel  that  we  are  doomed  to 
die  in  this  horrible  place.  Follow  me." 

Accoutred,  as  before  explained,  the  two  men  started  out  on 
a  hunt  for  a  far  different  treasure  than  that  which  they 


MENE,  THECAL,  PHAKES.  51 

sought  when  they  first  entered  the  ruin.     This  time  it  was 
the  treasure  of  life. 

"  We  will  proceed  down  this  corridor,"  said  Hugh,  "  and 
see  where  it  ends." 

The  dust  which  had  accumulated  upon  the  marble  floors 
prevented  their  feet  from  making  any  noise.     As  they  moved 
silently  along,  their  single  candle  serving  but  to  make  the 
darkness   more   visible,    Hugh's   imagination  pictured    the 
hundreds  and  thousands  of  men  who  had  trodden  that  way 
thousands  of  years  agone,  till  their  phantom  forms  seemed 
flitting  around  him,  to  precede  and  follow  him,  in  one  vast 
procession — till  he  felt  as  though  he  and  his  companions  were 
in  the  midst  of  a  doleful  march  of  the  dead.     Hugh  tried  to 
feel  hopeful — tried  to  bring  to  bear  all  his  Christian  resig- 
nation; but  the  intensely  gloomy  surroundings  were  almost 
too  much  for  even  his  philosophy.     He  could  scarcely  blame 
poor  old  Isaac  for   bemoaning  their  fate  so   sadly.     They 
passed  the  statue  of  Nebuchodnezzar,  and  a  few  feet  further 
on,  just  on  the  other  side  of  the  grand  doorway,  they  saw 
there  was  a  similar  one .    Hugh  could  see  that  it  was  broken 
more  than  the  first,  but  he  did  not  care  to  stop  and  examine 
it;  besides,  there  would  have  been  little  satisfaction  in  trying 
to  inspect  anything  with  one  little  candle,  and  he  felt  too 
strongly  the  necessity  of  economy  to  light  more.     Some  three 
hundred  feet  beyond  the  statues  they  came  to  where  the 
arches  of  the  corridor  had  fallen,   and  a  pile  of  debris  im- 
peded their  further  progress.     Hugh,  however,  found  that 
he  could  get  around  it  to  the  left,  and  pushing  through  a 
narrow  way,  they  found  themselves  in  another  corridor  of 
smaller  dimensions,  which  seemed  to  intersect  the  first.    The 
grand  main  corridor  had  apparently  ended  here . 

"We  must  keep  an  account  of  all  the  turns  we  make,  Isaac, 
so  that  we  may  know  when  we  get  back  to  the  same  places, 
and  not  waste  our  time  in  giving  them  a  second  examination." 
With  difficulty  making  their  way  over  portions  of  the  fallen 
building,  they  came  to  where  the  arch  had  given  way 
entirely. 


52  SACRIFICE. 

"  We  will  climb  to  the  top  of  this,"  said  Hugh,  "and  see 
what  we  shall  find." 

So  up  the  mass  of  fallen  masonry  they  went.     Poor  old 

Isaac,  groaning  and  panting,  seemed  with  great  difficulty  to 

follow  the  strong  young  man.  Hugh  seeing  this,  said  kindly: 

"  You  had  better  remain  down  here,  Isaac,  while  I  climb 

to  the  top  and  prospect." 

' '  Vat !  Stay  down  here  all  alone  in  de  dark  ?  I  goes  up ! " 
A  point  was  reached  which  Hugh  could  see  was  some- 
what above  the  arches  of  the  corridor.  Here  he  lighted  a 
couple  of  torches,  that  he  might  find  any  possible  outlet,  but 
the  search  was  fruitless,  and  reluctantly  they  retraced  their 
steps.  Returning,  they  entered  each  doorway,  but  found 
that  all  the  rooms  in  that  part  of  the  building  had  fallen  in. 
"Oh,  mine  old  legs!"  wailed  Isaac,  as  they  trudged 
along.  "And  mine  tongue — he  swell  clear  out  mine  mouth. 
I  vould  give  everydings  vat  I  got  for  von  cup  vater."  Hugh 
had  also  suffered  intensely  from  thirst,  but  had  said  nothing 
of  his  own  discomfort,  striving  all  the  time  to  encourage  and 
help  along  his  poor  old  companion. 

"Don't  you  know,  Isaac,"  stopping  to  look  at  his  watch, 
"that  we  have  been  in  this  place  thirty-six  hours,  and  this 
close,  oppressive  atmosphere  makes  me  feel  so  drowsy  that 
I  can  scarcely  resist  the  inclination  to  sleep.  That  I  do  not 
wish  to  do,  for  every  moment  lost  now  makes  our  chance  of 
escape  that  much  more  improbable." 

They  examined  the  opposite  wing  of  the  corridor,  but  with 
no  better  success.  Isaac  was  wailing  piteously  for  water, 
and  Hugh  feared  that  his  strength  would  soon  give  com- 
pletely out.  When  they  were  near  the  crossing  of  the  grand 
corridor,  on  their  return,  Hugh  fancied  he  heard  a  slight 
sound,  and  telling  Isaac  to  keep  silent,  he  almost  held  his 
breath  to  listen.  It  was  no  fancy — there  it  was  again — drip, 
drip,  drip! 

"Water!"  he  exclaimed.  "Precious  water!  My  God,  I 
thank  thee !  Isaac,  man,  there  is  certainly  the  dripping  of 
water!" 


MENE,  THECAL,  PHABES.  53 

"  Vater !     Ob,  vere  ish  vater  ?  " 

''Here,"  said  Hugh,  lighting  a  torch,  and  throwing  its 
rays  full  upon  the  wall  before  them,  where  through  a  crack 
in  the  hard  plastering  the  water  oozed  out,  trickling  down 
the  wall,  until  it  came  to  an  ornamental  projection,  from 
which  it  dropped  to  the  floor,  then  disappeared . 

"  Boor  chance  for  vater,"  wailed  Isaac. 

"  It  is  the  best  we  have,"  answered  Hugh,  "  and  we  ought 
to  be  exceedingly  thankful  for  that.  But  what  shall  we  do  ? 
"We  have  no  cup — that  was  left  in  *  Daniel's  room.'  Here, 
Isaac,  hold  your  tongue  under  the  drip  and  catch  it  as  it 
falls." 

Isaac  eagerly  obeyed,  and  caught  the  precious  drops  upon 
his  parched  and  swollen  tongue. 

"  Oh,  I  could  sit  here  forever! "  he  exclaimed,  after  some 
five  minutes.  "It  vould  be  von  Paradise.  But  de  shentle- 
mans  dries,  him  vonce." 

"  Go  on,"  said  Hugh,  "  try  ifc  again,  and  don't  waste  any 
time  in  gabbing." 

Isaac  again  held  his  tongue  under  the  drip,  and  at  the  end 
of  another  five  minutes  he  said : 

"  Dat  ish  better.  I  feel  goot  now.  De  shentlemans  dries 
him  now." 

Hugh,  standing  under  the  projection,  extended  his  aching 
tongue,  and  as  the  welcome  fluid  fell  upon  it,  drop  by  drop, 
he  felt,  like  Isaac,  that  he  could  have  stood  there  forever. 
Never  before  had  he  tasted  anything  so  grateful  to  his  swollen 
palate.  ' '  Water, "  he  thought ;  ' '  is  it  water  ?  say,  rather,  nec- 
tar for  the  gods!"  As  Isaac  watched  him  catching  the 
priceless  drops  upon  his  tongue,  it  seemed  to  suddenly 
strike  him  how  generous  it  was  for  the  big,  strong  young  man 
to  give  the  poor,  weak,  old  one  the  first  opportunity  to  slack 
the  grievous  thirst  which  tormented  both  alike. 

"  Ve  has  been,"  he  said,  giving  vent  to  his  thoughts, 
* '  most  as  forty-eight  hours  thirsting  for  vater,  and  now  de 
big,  strong,  young  shentlemans,  he  lets  the  boor  old  Jew, 
dat  most  beeples  kicks  about,  hafe  de  first  drinks.  Oh,  it 


54  SACRIFICE. 

vas  so  goot — so  goot  in  him !  I  feels  like  I  could  die  for  de 
shentlemans." 

Paying  no  attention  to  the  words  of  Isaac,  Hugh  now 
took  from  his  pocket  a  small,  dry  crust  of  bread,  which  was 
all  that  remained  of  their  luncheon.  Dividing  it  impartially, 
he  gave  one  piece  to  the  old  Jew,  who  devoured  it  raven- 
ously. Who  can  describe  the  sensations  of  a  man  when  eat- 
ing his  last  morsel  of  food — and  in  such  a  place !  After  fin- 
ishing their  meagre  meal  and  refreshing  themselves  anew 
under  the  drip,  Hugh  took  his  watch  out,  and,  breaking  the 
case  off,  placed  it  where  the  water  could  fall  into  it,  saying : 

"  We  had  as  well  be  hunting  around  while  this  is  filling; 
it's  a  small  cup,  but  better  than  none.  Come,  time  is  pre- 
cious; we  will  examine  this  room  near  by." 

They  found  the  room  nearly  all  caved  in,  but  Hugh  com- 
menced to  climb  the  debris.  From  appearances,  he  thought 
he  could  mount  higher  here  than  in  any  other  place  he  had 
discovered.  When  near  the  top,  Isaac  cried  out  to  Hugh 
to  stop. 

"  What's  the  matter?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  Matter?  Did  not  de  shentlemans  hear  de  hiss  of  de 
serpent  ?  " 

"Did  you  hear  one,  Isaac?"  and  Hugh  listened  in  breath- 
less silence.  Presently,  within  a  few  feet  of  him,  he  recog- 
nized the  hiss  of  the  cobra. 

"That  is  the  most  welcome  sound  I  ever  heard!"  he 
exclaimed. 

"Velcome!" 

"Yes,  welcome.  These  reptiles  get  out  of  here  some- 
times, and,  even  if  we  can't  find  where  they  came  in,  still  it 
proves  my  theory,  that  there  are  openings  in  this  ruin 
unknown  to  the  outside  world.  Let  us,  therefore,  with 
courage,  persevere  in  our  search  for  one.  So  you  see  even 
the  hiss  of  the  most  poisonous  reptile  on  earth  may  some- 
times be  welcome." 

Isaac  would  not  move  a  step  further  in  that  direction,  but 
Hugh  continued  his  search  for  an  outlet  amidst  the  hissing 


MENE,  THECAL,  PHARES.  55 

of  the  reptiles  on  all  sides.  They  seemed  struck  with  aston- 
ishment that  any  living  creature  besides  themselves  should 
dare  to  enter  their  den,  and  hurriedly  got  out  of  the  way. 
'  "  Oh,  Meester  Ashby!"  exclaimed  Isaac;  "  he  bite  you, 
and  you  die  in  two  hour.  Dere  is  no  dings  what  saves  you. 
No  man  ever  be  cured  of  de  bite  of  de  cobra.  Tousands 
an'  tousands  die  every  year  in  dis  country  from  de  bite. 
You  no  know  de  cobra." 

' '  I  would  rather  die  in  two  hours  than  after  two  days'  tor- 
ture," returned  Hugh;  "  and  neither  of  us  can  stand  it  much 
longer  than  that.  But  we  will  go  down  and  have  another 
1  drink,'  and  then  we  will  sleep.  I  feel  that  we  can  afford  to 
sleep  now,  for  I  am  more  firmly  convinced  than  'ever  that 
there  is  an  outlet  to  this  place,  and  that  the  good  God  will 
not  fail  to  direct  us  to  it." 

"  You  better  sleep  up  dere,  'mong  dem  cobra,"  said  Isaac. 

"I  am  not  so  fond  of  the  cobra,  as  all  that,"  replied 
Hugh;  "but  if  I  could  see  a  hole  large  enough  out  of  this 
place  I  would  go  through  it,  if  all  the  cobra  in  Asia  guarded 
it.  Don't  you  know  that  this  thing  of  running  around  here 
in  the  dark  is  getting  monotonous  ?  " 

"  It  been  dat,  great  vhile  mit  me." 

They  went  back  to  their  spring,  and  Hugh,  taking  the 
watch-case  full  of  water,  handed  it  to  Isaac. 

"Drinks  him  yourselfs,  Meester  Ashby.  De  ole  Jew  will 
nothafe  it  said  that  he  hafe  not  von  generous  feeling;  dat  he 
all  for  himselfs.  I  vould  not  touch  him  first,  Meester  Ashby, 
if  I  vould  die." 

Hugh  drank  the  precious  liquid,  and  sat  and  waited  for 
the  tiny  cup  to  fill  again.  Then  he  said: 

"  Let  us  now  find  a  dry  place  and  sleep." 

"Let  us  go  back  to  de  statue,  an'  maybe  we  find  von  good 
blace." 

And  back  they  went,  till  they  had  reached  the  great  arched 
doorway,  on  each  side  of  which  had  stood  the  statue  of  the 
great  Babylonian  king,  who  had  built  tliis  palace.  To 
Hugh's  surprise,  he  found  that  the  door  had  once  been 


56  SACRIFICE. 

walled  up,  but  that  the  brick  had  fallen  out,  leaving 
a  clear  entrance  into  the  room  beyond.  Scrutinizing 
the  fallen  brick  more  particularly,  he  saw  they  had  been 
cast  in  a  different  mould  from  all  the  others  used  in  the  con- 
struction of  the  palace,  and  that  they  were  void  of  inscrip- 
tions. Wondering  what  this  meant,  and  seeing  over  the 
arch  of  the  door-way  an  inscription,  he  climbed  upon  one 
of  the  pedestals,  and  lighting  another  torch,  read :  ' 

"At  the  request  of  Daniel,  I,  Darius,  on  the  death  of  Bel- 
shazzar,  have  caused  this  room  to  be  sealed  up,  and  it  shall 
so  remain  forever." 

"It  is  said  that  the  laws  and  decrees  of  the  Medes  and 
Persians  were  unalterable,  but  old  Father  Time  has  gotten 
the  best  of  this  decree.  "At  the  request  of  Daniel — "  Hugh 
paused  a  moment  in  thought,  and  then  continued:  "The 
Prophet  evidently  wished  this  room  closed,  that  no  human 
eye  might  again  behold  its  interior;  and  he  had  a  purpose  in 
so  doing.  Even  Alexander,  who  respected  nothing,  seems 
not  to  have  interfered  with  this  decree.  Shall  we,  more 
daring,  invade  its  sanctity  ?  " 

"  De  vail  ish  down,  an'  ish  not  dat  von  invitation  ?  If  Got 
no  vant  any  von  to  see  it,  vhy,  He  keep  de  vail  up." 

"Perhaps  it  is  that  way.  At  any  rate,  we  will  so  interpret 
it;  this  may  be  the  very  room  through  which  we  are  to  find 
deliverance." 

Clambering  over  the  fallen  brick-work,  the  two  entered. 
Although  the  ceiling  had  fallen  in  several  parts  of  the  room, 
yet  they  could  see  that  it  was  of  immense  size,  perhaps  some 
five  hundred  feet  square.  In  spite  of  his  exhausted  condition, 
Hugh  began  to  feel  interested,  and  to  look  around  more 
particularly. 

"Hallo!"  he  exclaimed,  "what  have  we  here?"  as  he 
stumbled  over  something  emitting  a  metallic  ring. 

Lifting  his  torch  on  high,  he  beheld  glistening  in  its  light 
long  rows  of  gold  and  silver  vessels  lying  upon  the  floor  with 
almost  the  same  regularity  as  though  placed  upon  tables. 
A  feast  had  evidently  been  prepared  and  suddenly  inter- 


MENE,  THECAL,  PHARES.  57 

rupted.  It  would  seem  that  the  guests  had  fled,  terror- 
stricken,!  at  the  occurrence  of  some  untimely  catastrophe, 
leaving  everything  undisturbed,  and  time  rotting  away  the 
wooden  tables  had  deposited  their  contents  upon  the  floor. 
For  hundreds  of  feet  Hugh  traced  these  relics  of  past  mag- 
nificence, and  his  wonder  and  admiration  grew.  There  were 
immense  candelabras,  with  a  hundred  branches,  showing  how 
this  vast  hall  had  been  illuminated.  There  were  pitchers, 
urns,  plates,  cups  and4many  other  curiously-wrought  vessels, 
all  of  gold,  silver  or  porcelain  ware.  For  a  time  he  forgot 
his  situation  in  the  contemplation  of  the  scene  before  him. 
" This, "he  soliloquized,  "it  is  evident,  was  the  grand  ban- 
queting hall  of  Nebuchodnezzer,  and  this  Belshazzar's  Feast. 
Among  these  relics  of  that  profane  revel  are  the  sacred 
vessels  stolen  from  the  temple  of  the  Most  High,  and  applied 
to  this  sacrilegious  use.  It  was  upon  these  walls  the  myster- 
ious Hand  appeared,  writing  the  doom  of  Babylon .  Now  I 
understand  the  sealing  of  this  room." 

"Dis  vould  be  von  nice  collection  if  we  could  have  a  few 
days  upon  de  earth  to  enjoy  it,"  broke  in  the  voice  of  the  Jew, 
upon  his  reverie. 

Man's  time  is  but  short  at  best,  Isaac,  said  Hugh.  "If 
you  had  all  this  gold  and  could  live  out  your  allotted  time, 
how  much  better  off  would  you  be  at  the  end?  You 
would  have  but  had  your  victuals  and  clothes;  and  that  much 
you  would  have  had  anyhow." 

"  Dat  ish  so;   but  all  mankind  likes  de  golt." 

"And  yet,  would  you  not  freely  give  all  this  gold  to  be 
placed  at  this  moment  on  the  outside  of  this  mound,  even 
though  it  were  at  the  mouth  of  the  lion's  den  ?" 

"  Dere  ish  lots  golt  here." 

"Then  do  you  propose,  staying  here  with  it?" 

"  I  follows  de  shentlemans." 

"One  thing  more  I  should  like  to  see,  presumptuous 
though  the  wish  might  seem :  that  is,  the  writing  which  the 
Hand  of  Jehovah  traced  upon  the  walls  of  this  apartment. 
Whether  I  live  or  whether  I  die  that  sight  would  more 


58  SACRIFICE. 

than  compensate  for  the  sufferings  I  have  endured  in  this, 
fearful  place." 

Scarcely  had  Hugh's  lips  given  utterance  to  his  thought, 
when  Isaac  suddenly  dropped  upon  the  floor  in  a  prostrate 
condition,  beating  his  breast  and  crying  out  :  "  My  Lord  and 
my  God  ! "  Startled  at  this  unexpected  motion,  Hugh  hastily 
raised  his  head  and  beheld,  what  made  him,  too,  fall  in 
humble  reverence,  as  though  in  the  presence  of  the  Eternal 
One.  No  torches  were  needed  to  illumine  the  scene,  for 
upon  the  wall  before  them,  there  gleamed  out  in  charac- 
ters of  living  light  the  dread  sentence  of  Belshazzar  and 
Babylon :  ^ 

"MENE,    THECAL,    PHARES." 

Now,  indeed,  has  faith  given  way  to  knowledge.  Now, 
indeed,  has  the  Most  High  manifested  himself  in  reply  to  a 
presumptuous  mortal's  wish.  Was  it  to  show  him  the  full 
measure  of  his  unworthiness?  was  he,  too,  weighed  in  the 
balance  and  found  wanting?  Terrible  questionings  now 
filled  his  shrinking  heart.  Deep  and  fervent  were  his  sup- 
plications to  be  guided  aright.  Long  he  remained  in  this 
prostrate  position,  not  daring  to  rise  in  that  awful  Presence, 
until  at  last  tired  nature  succumbed  to  the  long,  deep 
slumber  of  exhaustion. 


,     CHAPTER  VIII. 

THE  DREAM. 

>HEN  Hugh  awakened,  he  found  himself  in  total 
darkness,  and  it  took  him  some  time  to  collect  his- 
scattered  thoughts.  Raising  himself  in  a  sitting 
posture,  he  tried  to  peer  through  the  gloom.  He 
called  to  Isaac,  but  no  answer  came.  Then  he  be- 
gan to  question  his  senses.  Had  he  been  in  a  horrible- 
nightmare  and  dreamed  ?  If  so,  where  was  he  now  ?  Was 
he  jet  sleeping  and  dreaming  ?  He  called  again  to  Isaac, 
this  time  a  little  louder,  but  the  echoes  of  his  own  voice 
through  the  dread  stillness  was  the  only  sound  that  returned 
to  him.  Taking  a  candle  and  a  match  from  his  pocket  he 
struck  a  light,  but  it  seemed  only  to  add  to  the  loneliness  of 
the  scene.  He  looked  for  the  writing  on  the  wall  and  it  had 
disappeared.  Had  it,  too,  been  a  portion  of  a  disturbed 
dream?  He  looked  at  his  watch,  but  it  had  stopped.  He 
remembered  winding  it  only  a  short  time  before  they  had 
entered  this  room — it  had  run  down .  Then  he  had  slept  for 
more  than  thirty  hours.  How  much  more  ?  He  did  not  feel 
the  pangs  of  hunger  or  of  thirst  so  sharply  as  before  he  went 
to  sleep,  only  weaker.  But  where  was  Isaac  ?  He  would 
not  get  up  and  try  to  find  his  way  out  alone.  He  was  too^ 
cowardly  for  that.  Then  Hugh  began  to  reflect  as  to  what 
he  should  do  himself.  Should  he  leave  that  room  without 
first  finding  Isaac  ?  If  they  got  separated  in  that  Egyptian 
darkness,  they  might  never  meet  again.  He  could  not  leave- 
the  poor  old  Jew.  Again  he  called  at  the  top  of  his  voice, 
and  again  no  sound  was  heard  save  the  mocking  echoes,, 
which,  reverberating  through  the  great  ruin,  seemed  like  the 
awakened  voices  of  Belshazzar's  departed  hosts.  Isaac  had 
left  him — crawled  off  in  some  corner,  perhaps  to  die.  After 

I 


€0  SACRIFICE. 

searching  every  nook  and  cranny,  and  convincing  himself 
that  no  Isaac  was  there,  he  determined  to  seek  him  in  the 
other  parts  of  the  ruin.  But,  could  he  find  the  door  through 
which  they  had  entered  ?  Passing  closely  to  the  walls  with 
his  feeble  light,  he  examined  each  exit  as  he  came  to  it.  At 
last,  certain  that  he  had  found  the  right  one — for  here  were 
the  two  broken  statues  of  Nebucho'dnezzer — he  passed 
through  it  into  the  corridor  and  turned  to  the  right,  in  order 
to  go  to  the  "spring."  Perhaps  he  would  find  Isaac  there. 
He  looked  back  towards  "Daniel's  room,"  but  the  light  had 
burned  out.  Once  more  he  called  aloud,  and  again  the 
numberless  echoes  answered  him.  For  the  first  time  since 
he  had  entered  these  ruins  he  was  at  a  loss  what  to  do. 
"  Should  I  go  on  and  find  my  way  out  alone,"  he  argued, 
* '  I  would  always  feel  guilty  of  the  greatest  crime — that  of 
deserting  a  companion  in  time  of  danger."  He  continued 
his  way  to  the  "spring,"  but  on  reaching  that  spot,  no  one 
was  to  be  found.  Yet  here  was  a  welcome  sign;  for  the 
watch-case  was  gone,  and  under  the  drip  stood  one  of  the 
golden  cups  from  Belshazzar's  banqueting  room.  It  was 
only  half  full  of  water,  showing  by  this  that  Isaac  had 
been  there  only  a  short  time  before.  He  called  loudly 
again,  and  this  time  with  the  returning  echoes  came  the 
faint  voice  of  the  old  Jew  in  the  distance.  Hugh  followed 
the  sound  of  his  voice,  hallooing  in  return,  that  Isaac  might 
be  guided  aright,  and  soon  the  two  small  lights  met. 

' '  Were  you  trying  to  run  off  and  leave  me,  old  man  ?  " 
asked  Hugh. 

"I  vas  not;  I  vound  von  goot  dings.". 

' '  Good  thing,  eh  ?    What  was  it  ? 

"  I  dells  you,  I  tought  de  shentlemans  vas  never  going  to 
vake  up.  I  gets  very  dry  an'  I  cooms  down  here  to  get  von 
drinks.  Yen  I  here  I  schmell  von  hyena.  I  gets  awful 
scared.  You  know  dere  vas  always  von  superstition  among 
de  Jews,  dat  if  von  hyena  meets  von  man  in  de  dark,  he  can 
scharm  him,  so  he  follow  dat  hyena  anyvares — makes  him 
follow  till  he  come  to  his  den,  if  he  vants  him  dere — an'  den 


\  THE  DREAM.  61 

he  eat  him.  I  no  likes  to  be  eat  by  von  hyena,  derefore  I 
blows  out  mine  light  an'  runs,  I  dinks,  toward  de  room  vere 
you  vas,  but  I  find  I  go  de  odder  vay.  I  don't  know  vere  I  go, 
if  de  shentlemans  no  follow.  Yen  I  hears  your  voice  I  strike 
mine  light  again." 

1 1  And  there  was  a  hyena  in  here,  was  there  ?  Then  we 
will  find  his  hole.  But  you  are  out  of  breath.  Sit  down 
here  and  rest.  Blow  out  your  candle;  we  must  be  saving 
of  light,  you  know." 

The  two  men  sat  down  on  a  heap  of  rubbish,  in  the  total 
darkness,  and  talked  together.  The  presence  of  a  hyena  in 
the  ruin  gave  both  a  hope,  which  amounted  to  almost  a  cer- 
tainty of  escape. 

' ' How  circumstances  alter  cases !"  remarked  Hugh.  "If 
any  one  had  said  to  me  a  week  ago,  in  a  prophetic  way,  that 
I  would  seek  the  cobra  as  a  friend,  and  walk  with  delight  in 
his  den,  and  that  I  would  welcome  the  hyena  as  a  heaven- 
sent messenger,  I  should  have  thought  such  things  alike  im- 
probable and  impossible.  I  tell  you,  Isaac,  the  ways  of  God 
are  mysterious  and  altogether  past  finding  out.  I  believe 
that  everything  happens  for  the  best.  Sometimes  it  is  bet- 
ter for  one  to  suffer  untold  miseries  in  the  flesh.  It  is  a 
purifying  process,  as  by  fire,  and  fits  us  for  the  more  spirit- 
ual enjoyments  of  the  Great  Hereafter.  But  have  you  any 
idea  how  long  we  slept  ?  I  know  I  slept  more  than  thirty 
hours,  for  I  wound  my  watch  shortly  before  we  went  in  that 
room." 

"I  know  it  vas  von  long  time,  but  I  haf  no  vatch,  so  I 
cannot  tells." 

Hugh  sat  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  and  then  again 
spoke : 

1  'And,  Isaac,  I  had  such  a  dream.  First,  I  dreamed  that 
you  and  I  saw  in  letters  of  living  fire  the  writing  upon  the 
wall.  So  vivid  was  this  portion  of  my  dream  that  I  thought 
myself  awake,  but  now  I  know  I  was  sleeping;  for,  on  open- 
ing my  eyes,  I  saw  nothing  but  pitchy  darkness." 


432  SACEIFICE. 

"And  you  tought  you  dreamed,  Meester  Ashby?"  said 
Isaac. 

"Yes,  and  I  thought,  too,  that  as  I  slept,  the  Prophet 
Daniel  came  to  me.  Touching  me,  he  said,  '  Arise,  young 
man,  and  come  with  me.'  Arising  to  my  feet,  I  was  no 
longer  hungry,  thirsty  and  tired,  but  felt  as  though  a  new 
life  had  been  instilled  into  my  veins.  I  placed  my  hand  in 
his,  extended  to  grasp  it,  and  we  began,  almost  insensibly, 
to  mount  heavenward.  The  top  of  this  mound  seemed  to 
open  of  its  own  accord,  and  we  passed  out  in  the  fresh,  cool 
night  air.  Upwards  and  onwards  we  went,  until  at  last  we 
stood  within  the  jeweled  walls  of  -^he  heavenly  Jerusalem, 
and  in  the  very  presence  of  the  Son  of  God.  I  saw  all  the 
angels  and  archangels  that  ministered  unto  Him.  I  saw  the 
saints  and  prophets  of  old  in  lowly  adoration  before  the  Holy 
of  Holies.  Oh,  the  brilliancy,  the  beauty  of  this  celestial 
scene  was  more  than  the  tongue  of  man  could  describe. 
And,  Isaac,  it  seemed,  the  glorious  hosts  joyously  saluted 
me,  and  Jesus,  the  Saviour  of  mankind,  smiled  upon  me, 
saying,  '  Well  done,  my  son ! '  and  placed  upon  my  head  a 
dazzling  crown  in  which  one  jewel  sparkled  pre-eminent. 
Then  a  soft  luminous  cloud  seemed  to  rise  and  shut  this 
beautiful  vision  from  my  sight.  And  Daniel  said  to  me : 

1 '  '  Oh,  child  of  earth,  dost  think  this  worth  working  for  ? 
What  suffering  wouldst  thou  endure  to  gain  it  ?  ' 

"  'All,  all,'  I  replied,  '  that  it  is  possible  for  me  to  suffer 
in  the  flesh.' 

"  'And  no  more?' 

"  '  Yes;  I  would  bear  for  ages, VI  returned,  'the  torments 
of  the  damned,  to  obtain  that  glorious  reception  in  heaven.' 

"  'Thou  speakest  wisely  and  well,'  said  the  holy  prophet; 
•*  but  forget  not,  my  son,  that  crooked  is  the  road  and  narrow 
the  gate  that  leads  to  this  beatitude,  and  but  few  have  the 
courage  to  walk  therein.' 

"  'What  shall  I  do  to  obtain  this  ? '  I  queried. 

"  *  Act  bravely  and  well,'  he  replied,  'in  whatever  part 
may  seem  to  be  assigned  thee.  Bear  ye  the  burdens  of  the 


THE  DREAM.  63 

weak,  that  ye  may  fulfil  the  law  of  Christ;  and  remember,' 
he  continued,  in  stern,  solemn  tones  which  chilled  me 
through  and  through,  '  never  question  God's  justice.' 

11  At  this  I  awoke.  It  was  a  queer,  strange  dream,  was  it 
not,  Isaac  ?  But  I  suppose  one  in  the  state  of  body  and 
mind  I  was  in  would  be  likely  to  dream  almost  anything." 

"  I  cannot  interpret  de  dream,"  responded  the  Jew;  "but 
perhaps  he  vorks  himself  out,  and  perhaps  de  shentlemans 
forget  him  ven  he  gets  out  dis  place,  if  he  ever  do." 

"Isaac,  I  will  never  forget  it.  Let  come  what  will,  those 
words  will  ever  sound  in  my  ear.  Never  will  I  question  the 
justice  of  God.  I  will  always  do  what  seems  to  be  required 
of  me,  should  it  entail  a  suffering  of  ages.  Could  you 
imagine,  Isaac,  any  punishment  which  could,  in  any  degree, 
compare  with  the  torments  of  Hell  ?" 

"De  shentlemans  ask  me  dat,  eh?  Yell,  I  dells  you.  I 
travels  'round  very  much.  I  see  all  kinds  beeples.  I  follow 
de  beesness  vere  dey  lets  me  see  de  inside  of  dere  lives. 
Nobody  care  if  de  old  Jew  see  dere  faults;  he  nobody.  Yell, 
I  vould  not  likes  to  have  to  travels  around  acting  von  lie  till 
I  could  find  von  persons  entirely  true  to  hisselfs,  true  to  his 
fellow-mans,  and  true  to  his  Got,  much  less  two  togedder." 

' '  How  long  do  you  think  you  would  have  to  travel  around, 
Isaac,  before  you  could  settle  down  on  one  ?  "  said  Hugh. 

"Oh,  I  don't  knows  dat.  I  ish  been  living  long  dimes. 
You  dinks  me  about  sixty;  I  ish  older  dan  dat.  I  ish  been 
in  beesness  von  long  dimes,  and  I  no  finds  him  yet." 

' '  Why,  Isaac,  you  have*  certainly  found  one  ?  You  have 
found  yourself  ?  " 

"  Mineselfs  ?  O  mine  Got,  dat  ish  too  bad.  I  bees  trav- 
eling 'round  all  de  dimes,  trading  mit  de  beeples,  or  some 
odder  dings,  and  I  hafs  to  dells  von  hundred  lie  every  day. 
I  dells  you,  Meester  Ashby,  mine  whole  life  bees  von  lie ! 
Me  goot!  O  mine  Got!  "  and  the  little  Jew  buried  his  face 
in  his  hands  as  though  in  the  depths  of  despair. 

"  Come,  cheer  up,  Isaac !    An   honest   confession  is  cer- 


64  SACRIFICE. 

tainly  good  for  the  soul,  and  if  I  were  in  your  place  I  would 
here  make  a  vow  to  quit  lying  f orevei . " 

"  How  ish  de  leopard  to  schange  his  spots  ?  Yy  don't  you 
says  to  me,  '  Isaac,  be  von  brave  mans  ?  Isaac,  go  fight  de 
cobra!  Isaac,  don't  be  so  foolish  as  to  beliefs  de  hyena 
scharms  you,  an'  makes  you  follows  him ! '  It  ish  von  dings 
to  say  do,  an'  anodder  dings  to  do ! " 

' '  Then  you  would  not  like  to  live  that  life  always  ?  " 

•''Mine  Got,  no!" 

1 '  And  still  you  are  afraid  to  die  ?  " 

< '  Afraid  to  die  ?  O  mine  Got !  To  die  ?  And  den  vhat  ? 
It  ish  von  awful  dings  for  von  bad  mans  to  die." 

"  Hush!"  whispered  Hugh;  "  don't  you  smell  that  animal 
again  ?  "  And  the  click  of  a  small  derringer  in  his  hand  was 
all  the  sound  that  was  heard  for  some  minutes.  The  hyena 
passed  on  the  other  side  of  the  corridor  without  appearing 
to  know  they  were  there.  It  was  perfectly  noiseless,  but 
that  horrible  odor  could  not  be  mistaken. 

"  Let  us  follow  as  silently  as  possible  in  the  dark,"  said 
Hugh. 

And  they  started  on,  following  the  disgusting  scent  which 
the  animal  left  behind  him.  It  took  them  around  the  fallen 
arches  at  the  crossing  of  the  corridors,  and  then  they  had 
to  climb — climb  in  that  total  darkness  the  piles  of  fallen 
debris.  Up  they  went,  until  there  seemed  to  them  to  be  no 
ending  to  the  ascent,  when  suddenly  it  closed  in,  until  their 
heads  struck  the  roof.  Their  way  seemed  completely 
blocked.  Hugh  was  puzzled.  The  hyena  had  evidently 
gone  this  way.  "I  can  tell,"  thought  he,  "  where  that  crea- 
ture's body  has  touched  the  rocks,  I  am  sure,  should  he  have 
gone  through  any  small  opening."  Feeling  all  around,  his 
anxious  search  was  soon  rewarded.  A  small  aperture  was 
before  him,  and,  sure  enough,  on  the  bricks  he  could  trace 
the  horrible  smell  as  plainly  as  ever  hound  scented  a  track. 
He  put  his  arm  through  the  crevice.  It  was  too  small  for  a 
man  of  his  size  to  squeeze  through.  With  his  hatchet  and 
his  hands  he  worked  at  it  until  it  was  enlarged  sufficiently 


THE  DREAM.  65 

for  him  to  enter,  which  he  did,  crawling  on  his  hands  and 
knees,  followed  by  Isaac.  Their  progress  was  very  slow,  for 
every  few  feet  they  would  have  to  stop  and  remove,  more 
brick,  in  order  to  enlarge  the  passage.  The  stench  from  the 
animal  was  not  so  strong  as  Hugh  had  expected  to  find  in  so 
narrow  a  place,  and  from  this  fact  he  concluded  that  they 
were  not  in  the  habit  of  visiting  the  ruins  very  often.  After 
crawling  along  for  about  a  hundred  feet,  which  seemed  to 
them  as  many  thousand,  the  passage  commenced  growing 
larger,  and  soon  they  found  they  were  again  in  an  open 
space. 

"  Thank  the  Lord  for  that  much!"  exclaimed  Hugh. 

"But  ve  ish  not  out  yet,"  murmured  Isaac. 

"We  might  as  well  have  a  light  now,"  said  Hugh,  "  as  our 
hyena  has  got  too  much  the  start  of  us  to  admit  of  our  fol- 
lowing him  again  by  the  scent." 

Lighting  their  candles  anew,  they  scrambled  down  an 
incline  until  they  reached  once  more  the  floor  of  the  corri- 
dor. This  they  examined  from  side  to  side,  and  concluded 
that  it  was  a  continuation  of  the  one  they  had  first 
entered.  With  noiseless  steps  they  glided  along.  There 
were  doorways  leading  into  immense  rooms,  but  these  they 
cared  not  now  to  examine.  The  only  thing  then  of  value 
to  them  was  the  open,  pure  air  of  heaven.  In  a  few  hundred 
feet  the  grand  corridor  came  to  an  end,  but  a  much  lower 
and  narrower  archway  set  in.  This  they  followed  -for  what 
seemed  at  least  a  half  a  mile,  when  it,  too,  came  to  an  abrupt 
termination. 

"I  think  the  ground  over  our  heads,"  said  Hugh,  "  can- 
not be  very  high ;"  and,  searching,  they  found  a  hole  in  the 
wall  which  seemed  to  have  an  upward  inclination.  Hugh 
put  his  head  into  this  to  investigate,  and  drawing  back,  he 
exclaimed,  "Isaac,  I  can  feel  a  current  of  air;  but,  ugh!  such 
a  stench !  We  will  certainly  have  to  go  out  through  a  den  of 
hyenas,  with  its  accumulated  putrefaction  of  ages." 

"But  vill  de  hyenas  let  us  pass?"  anxiously  suggested 
Isaac. 


66  SACRIFICE. 

"Pass,  man!  We  have  got  to  pass!  The  hyenas  will  get 
out  of  our  way.  While  they  are  capable  of  doing  more 
harm  than  almost  any  other  animal,  yet  they  are  the  most 
cowardly  of  the  carniverous  species." 

"It  is  von  dings  to  meets  him  out  in  de  open  plain  an' 
anodder  to  meet  him  in  his  den,"  replied  the  old  Jew. 

"  Hold!  Let  me  see  that  my  derringers  are  in  good  order. 
I  have  but  two  shots;  but  we  each  have  a  hatchet,  which  is 
no  mean  weapon  in  a  close  combat.  If  they  have  young, 
the  females  will  fight  till  the  last.  But,  here  we  go!  This 
is  one  last  grand  effort  for  life,  Isaac,  and  in  such  an  effort 
cowardice  itself  must  turn  to  courage." 

So  saying,  he  began  to  creep  through  the  aperture.  Soon 
he  heard  the  growling  and  snarling  of  the  hyenas,  and  the 
stench  was  becoming  intolerable.  When  within  a  few  feet 
of  the  den,  Hugh  paused,  and  took  one  of  his  derringers  in 
his  hand.  From  having  been  so  long  immured  in  the  ruin 
his  eyes  had  become  accustomed  to  the  darkness,  and  lie 
could  now  discern  the  outlines  of  the  different  animals. 
Just  then  one  of  them,  either  hearing  or  smelling  him,  put 
its  head  into  the  hole,  within  a  foot  of  his  outstretched  hand. 
He  gave  this  one  the  contents  of  the  derringer,  and  it  fell 
back  dead  among  the  howling  pack.  Now  the  snarling  and 
uproar  generally  became  terrific.  As  brave  a  heart  as 
Hugh's,  even,  might  well  have  faltered  at  those  horrible 
sounds;  but  now  it  was,  dare  all  or  die!  Taking  the  other 
derringer  in  his  hand,  he  pushed  his  way  into  the  opening . 
He  found  he  could  stand  almost  upright.  A  large  female, 
which  had  young  in  the  den,  made  a  rush  at  him,  but  with 
his  pistol  he  sent  her  writhing  in  the  agonies  of  death,  to 
join  her  companion.  Then  seizing  his  hatchet  with  both 
hands  he  commenced  striking  right  and  left. 

' '  Come  on,  Isaac ! "  he  exclaimed,  ' '  stand  just  behind  me ! " 

But  to  his  astonishment  the  little  cowardly  old  Jew  stood 
beside  him,  and  more  than  one  of  those  fearful  animals  felt 
the  effects  of  his  well-directed  blows.  Thus  they  fought 
until  the  last  of  the  hyenas  was  either  killed,  disabled,  or  so 


THE  DREAM.  67 

cowed  as  to  crouch  back  in  fear  of  the  strange  invaders. 
Gradually  they  had  worked  their  way  to  the  mouth  of  the 
den,  Hugh  having  sometimes  to  go  on  his  hands  and  knees 
on  account  of  the  smallness  of  the  place.  Here  Isaac  had 
decidedly  the  advantage  in  his  low  stature.  But  not  yet 
could  they  congratulate  themselves,  for  now  the  passage  be- 
came so  small  for  several  feet  that  they  would  have  to  lay 
down  and  work  themselves  through,  like  snakes  crawling 
through  a  hole.  But  through  this  hole  came  a  glimpse  of 
daylight.  Here  Hugh,  panting  for  fresh  air,  said  to  Isaac: 
"  Go  on,  quickly  and  I  will  follow!  " 

"You  has  gone  ahead  all  de  dimes;  go  ahead,  now!" 
exclaimed  the  old  Jew. 

There  was  no  time  for  argument,  so  Hugh  crawled  on, 
working  and  panting,  until  at  last  he  emerged  into  the 
blessed  sunlight.  At  first  he  could  see  no  more  than 
one  born  blind,  for  the  broad,  glaring  light  was  so  pain- 
ful to  his  eyes  that  he  was  obliged  to  cover  them  with  his 
hand  to  protect  them  from  its  full  force.  For  some  moments 
he  stood  inhaling,  with  deep  enjoyment,  the  fresh,  pure  air 
of  heaven.  Hearing  no  sound  beside  his  own  deep,  full 
breathing,  he  hastily  called:  "  Isaac,  are  you  here?" 

No  answer  came. 

"  My  God! "  he  cried,  "  has  poor  little  Isaac  given  out  at 
the  last  moment  ?  I  must  go  back  and  see." 

With  this  he  started  to  re-enter  the  den,  reeking  witli  its 
sickening  effluvium,  when  a  hand  was  laid  upon  his  shoulder, 
and  the  voice  of  Isaac  spoke  in  his  ear: 

"Young  man,  you  should  not  do  dat  dings." 

"Ah,  are  you  here?  Thank  God,  you  are  safe!  And, 
Isaac,  before  we  leave  this  place,  while  yet  the  snarling  and 
howling  of  the  wounded  hyenas  j  come  to  our  ears,  let  you 
and  me,  of  different  creeds,  bow  down  together  and  thank 
the  same  God — the  God  of  Abraham  and  of  Daniel — for  this 
deliverance." 


CHAPTER   IX, 


BEFORE  THE  CADI. 

more,  side  by  side,  Hugh  Ashby  and  the  dimin- 
utive old  Jew  entered  the  city  of  Hillah,  and  the  peo- 
ple gazed  at  them  in  surprise  and  consternation.  No 
longer  in  the  flush  of  a  vigorous  health,  but  ema- 
ciated, weak,  and  staggering,  Hugh  looked  as  one 
arisen  from  the  dead.  Accompanied  by  Isaac,  who  seemed 
scarce  able  to  drag  himself  feebly  along,  he  made  his  way 
as  rapidly  as  possible  to  the  inn,  where  he  had  sojourned 
before  his  incarceration  in  what  had  almost  proven  to  be  a 
living  tomb.  The  report  had  been  industriously  circulated 
by  the  Arab  workmen  whom  Hugh  had  employed  that  the 
tunnel  into  the  ruin  had  caved  in  on  them,  and  that  they 
were  killed.  So  lightly  is  life  held  among  these  people  that 
no  investigation  had  been  made;  and  as  nearly  five  days 
had  elapsed  since  that  event,  and  no  tidings  had  been 
received  of  them,  the  inhabitants  had  accepted  it  as  a  settled 
fact  that  they  were  dead.  Now  that  they  beheld  them  once 
more  walking  the  streets  in  proper  person,  they  were  filled 
with  .a  superstitious  fear;  for  how  could  it  be  that  those  who 
were  dead  should  now  be  alive  before  them  ?  Hugh  soon 
made  them  understand,  however,  that  if  they  were  spirits 
they  were  materialized  ones.  In  this  quiet  little  city,  so 
seldom  visited  with  a  sensation,  the  event  went  from  mouth 
to  mouth  until  at  last  it  became  the  common  talk. 

After  their  escape  from  the  hyena's  den,  they  looked  around 
to  discover  their  whereabouts,  and  found  that  their  perambu- 
lations in  the  ruin  had  brought  them  down  near  the  Euphrates 
River.  Hastening  to  its  brink,  and  scarcely  waiting  to 
undress,  they  plunged  into  its  refreshing  depths.  Here  they 
luxuriated  until  thirst  was  completely  satisfied,  when,  coming 
out,  they  remembered  to  their  disgust  that  they  must  again 


BEFORE  THE  CADI.  59 

don  the  habiliments,  which  were  not  only  covered  with  dirt, 
but  to  which  also  clung  the  filthy  carrion  smell  of  the  hyena. 
Dressing  themselves,  they  slowly  and  with  great  effort  made 
their  way  directly  home,  if  so  we  could  call  the  place  where 
Hugh  had  left  all  his  effects. 

Arriving  at  the  inn,  Hugh  found  that  his  entire  baggage 
had  been  removed.  Mamoun,  the  landlord,  came  up  very 
obsequiously  and  said  to  him,  through  Isaac,  as  interpreter: 

"  I  am  very  sorry,  sir,  but  the  men  that  did  work  for  thee 
said  thou  wert  indebted  to  them,  and  came  and  took  thy 
trunks  away." 

"But  you  see  that  I  am  not  dead,  and  I  want  you  to  get 
me  my  trunks.  They  are  of  little  value  to  any  one  else, 
but  of  great  value  to  me.  I  have  not  a  change  of  clothing, 
and  these  I  have  on  are  not  fit  to  be  worn  for  a  minute." 

" I  am  very  sorry,"  repeated  Mamoun,  "but  I  tell  thee 
they  are  gone,  and  I  cannot  make  the  men  return  them.  I 
did  not  give  them  up  till  this  very  day,  when  I  thought  it 
certain  that  thou  wert  dead.  I  could  not  keep  thy  things 
always  from  men  whom  thou  owest." 

"Let  us  go  out,"  said  Hugh  to  Isaac,  "and  see  if  we  can 
buy  something  to  put  on." 

They  visited  every  bazaar  in  the  place,  but  could  find 
nothing  which  would  come  near  fitting  our  hero's  gigantic 
proportions.  He  bought,  however,  the  largest  suit  he  could 
find,  cut  after  the  fashion  of  the  natives,  and,  habited  in 
this,  he  started  out  to  see  what  could  be  done  towards  re- 
covering his  baggage.  Had  Hugh's  best  friends  now  met 
him  they  would  not  have  recognized  him,  so  complete  was 
the  disguise  of  his  present  dress.  Ludicrous  in  the  extreme 
was  the  figure  he  cut  in  this  loose  Arabic  costume,  about 
three  sizes  too  small  for  him,  and,  looking  at  himself,  he 
was  obliged  to  laugh  at  his  own  singular  appearance. 

"  Vas  de  shentleman's  bapers  in  his  drunks  ?  "  asked  Isaac, 
"'cause  if  his  credits — his  money — ish  gone,  I  fix  dat." 

Hugh  thanked  him  for  his  offer,  but  assured  him  that  he 


70  SACRIFICE. 

had  his  letters  of  credit  and  other  important  papers  on  his 
person. 

"Now,"  said  Isaac,  ".de  shentlemans  like  de  curious. 
Do  he  vant  to  see  de  curious  justice  of  dis  blace  ?  Let  him 
go  to  de  Cadi  widout  me,  an'  he  vill  vind  von  interpreter. 
Den  he  vill  see  vhat  vill  happen.  Dey  vill  talk  about  it 
before  him  if  dey  dinks  he  no  understands.  Ve  vill  get  de 
drunks  all  right,  never  fear  for  dat.  " 

Hugh,  thinking  he  would  like  a  little  pastime  of  this  sort, 
took  his  way  alone  to  the  Court  of  Mustafa,  the  Cadi.  By 
signs  he  made  them  understand  that  he  wished  an  interpre- 
ter, and  a  man  was  called  in  who  spoke  tolerable  English. 
Through  this  person  Hugh  laid  his  grievances  before  the 
Cadi.  That  functionary  assured  him  that  he  would  do  all 
in  his  power  to  have  his  property  restored  to  him,  and  sent 
out  after  Mamoun. 

It  is  Arab  nature,  and,  perhaps,  we  might  make  it  more 
cosmopolitan  and  say  that  it  is  human  nature,  to  dislike  to 
give  up  anything  that  one  has  once  acquired,  however  much 
justice  may  seem  to  require  it.  We  will  not  do  Mamoun, 
the  keeper  of  the  principal  inn  at  Hillah,  the  injustice  to  say 
that  he  would  have  stolen  the  trunks  outright,  or  that  he 
would  have  connived  at  keeping  them  had  he  known  that 
Hugh  was  still  living;  but,  now  the  act  was  done,  he  felt  in 
duty  bound  to  make  it  appear  right.  The  reparation  of  a 
wrong  is  the  most  difficult  thing  the  average  man  of  any 
nation  or  clime  ever  tried  to  do;  in  fact,  the  average  man  does 
not  often  make  the  attempt. 

Mamoun  made  his  statement,  which  was  substantially  the 
same  as  that  made  before  to  Hugh,  except  that  he  admitted 
to  the  Cadi  that  the  trunks  were  still  at  his  house.  Masov- 
dee,  who  had  been  the  chief  workman  for  Hugh,  claimed  his 
wages  out  of  them,  he  said.  This  statement,  being  intended 
for  the  ear  of  the  Cadi  alone,  was  not  interpreted  verbatim. 
Hugh  now  asked  if  the  trunks  had  been  taken  from  Mamoun's 
house,  to  which  that  person  promptly  answered  that  they 
had. 


BEFORE  THE   CADI.  71 

"We  will  make  him  offer  a  big  sum  for  them,"  said 
Mustafa  to  Mamoun,  "and  then  thou  canst  afford  to  be 
generous  to  the  officer."  This  last  clause  was  given  in  a 
meaning  tone,  accompanied  by  a  sly  wink;  then,  turning  to 
the  interpreter,  he  said :  '  'Tell  him  that  his  trunks  are  in  the 
hands  of  several  men,  but  that  we  think  that  for  one  hundred 
sequins  we  can  get  them  to  return  every  article." 

Here  Masovdee  entered,  and  demanded  of  the  Cadi  to  be 
heard. 

"This  Christian  dog,"  he  vehemently  commenced,  "came 
to  Hillah,  and,  behold,  the  first  thing  he  does  is  to  knock 
down  my  brother,  for  doing  as  he  pleased  with  his  own. 
The  infidel  dog,  to  dare  to  lay  his  hands  on  an  honest  Mussul- 
man! Then  he  has  violated  the  laws  of  this  country  by 
making  excavations  for  valuable  treasure,  without  a  permit 
from  the  Government.  A  pretty  Cadi,  indeed,  wouldst  thou 
be  to  protect  this  Christian  dog  from  thy  faithful  Mussul- 
mans." 

"This  is  a  very  serious  charge  thou  dost  bring,"  said 
Mustafa.  "It  will  cost  him  quite  a  sum  to  get  out  of  that. 
There  will  be  something  for  all  of  us." 

"  The  serious  charge  is  made  against  thee,"  said  the  inter- 
preter to  Hugh,  "of  violating  the  laws  of  this  country,  by 
searching  for  hidden  treasure  without  a  permit.  This  entails 
an  imprisonment  for  a  great  length  of  time,  and,"  he  con- 
tinued in  a  confidential  tone,  "if  thou  wilt  give  me  two  hun- 
dred sequins  I  will  get  thee  out  of  this  trouble." 

"I  will  not  pay  one  piastre,"  said  Hugh,  "for  the  return 
of  the  baggage,  or  for  anything  else." 

"The  vile  infidel  dog,"  said  Mustafa,  when  the  speech 
had  been  interpreted  to  him.  "  We  will  see  if  he  will  be  so 
independent  when  we  are  through  with  him.  Tell  him,"  he 
said,  turning  to  the  interpreter,  ' '  that  to  prison  he  goes, 
until  he  pays  a  fine  of  three  hundred  sequins,  for  mining 
without  a  permit." 

By   this   time   a   dirty,  motley  crowd   had   collected,  all 


72  SACBIFICE. 

anxious  to  see  what  the  just  Cadi  was  going  to  do  with  the 
Christian  dog. 

"  Would  it  not  be  well,"  said  Hugh,  "  to  first  ask  if  I  had 
a  permit?  Eeturn  me  my  trunks  and  I  will  show  you  all  you 
want  to  see." 

"  It  is  in  his  trunk,"  chuckled  the  Cadi.  "That  is  the 
same  as  though  he  did  not  have  it,  and  we  will  see,  friend 
Mamoun,  that  he  does  not  get  it."  Then  turning  to  Hugh, 
he  continued,  "I  have  not  the  power  to  restore  thy  trunks, 
and  cannot,  therefore,  get  thy  papers,  if  thou  hadst  any, 
which  I  doubt.  Thou  dost  owe  an  honest  debt,  and  thy 
property  must  pay  it.  I  have  done  everything  that  an  honest 
Cadi  could  do,  and  now  thou  must  either  pay  the  fine  or  go  to 
prison." 

The  crowd,  at  this,  signified  their  approbation,  and  said 
the  vile  Christian  dog  ought  to  be  at  the  bottom  of  the 
river,  and  proposed  to  put  him  there  for  a  small  sum. 

"This  thing  has  gone  far  enough!"  exclaimed  Hugh, 
thoroughly  exasperated.  "I  came  among  you  with  a  per- 
mit from  the  Pasha.  I  hired  some  men  to  work,  and  paid 
them.  They  in  return  tried  to  murder  me  by  rolling  a  big 
stone  into  the  opening  of  the  ruin  and  destroying  the  tunnel. 
When  they  thought  me  dead,  Mamoun  and  these  wretches 
tried  to  rob  me;  and  now  you,  the  Cadi  of  this  city,  join  in 
their  wicked  connivances.  I  have  understood  every  word 
that  has  been  said.  Kestore  me  my  property  and  let  me 
depart,  or  I  shall  report  you  to  the  Pasha,  who  is  my 
friend." 

Mustafa  was  furious.  "Thou  Christian  dog!"  he  raged, 
"thou  dost  add  deception  to  all  thy  other  vices,  and 
thought,  by  pretending  not  to  understand,  to  get  us  to  say 
something  of  which  thou  couldst  take  advantage !  Away 
with  him  to  prison !" 

Masovdee  started  towards  Hugh,  as  though  to  lay  violent 
hands  on  him,  but  fell  back,  as  a  pair  of  derringers  in  the 
hands  of  our  hero  were  presented  at  him,  and  a  stern,  reso- 
lute voice  rang  out,  "  Stand  aside,  or  I  fire!" 


BEFORE   THE   CADI.  73 

"  And  he  thinks  to  do  battle  against  the  whole  Turkish 
Empire! "  howled  the  Cadi  in  his  rage.  "Away,  away  with 
him!" 

"  And  he  thinks  to  frighten  one  with  a  pistol  that  has  killed 
a  hyena,"  mocked  Mamoun,  "  when  every  one  knows  that  a 
weapon  that  has  been  used  against  that  animal  cannot  hurt  a 
Mussulman !" 

" Come  another  step  further,"  said  Hugh,  "and  I  will 
•explode  that  superstition  for  you."  Then  turning  to  Mus- 
tafa, the  Cadi,  he  said:  "I  have  with  me  a  letter  from  the 
Pasha  of  Bagdad,"  and  putting  his  hands  into  the  folds  of 
Jiis  unique  costume,  he  drew  forth  a  pocketbook,  from  which 
he  took  a  paper,  and  holding  it  toward  the  Cadi,  said: 
"  Would  you  like  to  read  it  ?  Or  perhaps  it  is  better  that  I 
should  do  so  myself.  He  then  read: 

"To  any  one  in  the  Pashalic  of  Bagdad  to  whom,  by 
God's  favor,  this  shall  come : — Be  it  known  that  a  young 
American,  Hugh  Ashby  by  name,  has  done  the  Government 
and  myself  great  service;  therefore,  all  persons  in  this 
Pashalic,  to  whom  this  shall  come,  are  hereby  commanded 
to  render  to  him  all  the  assistance  in  their  power.  And  he 
is  hereby  granted  the  privilege  of  mining  or  excavating  at 
any  place  in  this  Pashalic,  and  of  taking  with  him  anything 
whatsoever  he  shall  find. 

"ABDUL  PASHA." 

"  Examine  this  signature  yourself,"  said  Hugh,  handing 
the  document  to  Mustafa.  "  Now  I  demand  of  you  my  own, 
and  that  I  may  depart  in  peace." 

"  It  is  a  forgery!"  cried  the  infuriated  Cadi,  tearing  it  in 
fragments.  "Seize  him!  Bind  him!"  The  attendants  on 
the  Court  advanced  toward  Hugh,  who  began  to  think  that 
his  search  for  pastime,  in  the  garb  of  one  of  the  faithful, 
was  about  to  lead  to  serious  results.  Determined,  however, 
not  to  surrender  as  long  as  he  had  strength  left  to  resist,  he 
again  presented  his  pistols,  and  with  finger  on  the  trigger, 
was  about  to  fire,  when  the  cry  ran  through  the  crowd  stand- 
ing without  the  door: 


74  SACBIFICE. 

"Tne  Pasha!  the  Pasha  is  coming!"  Immediately  the 
the  court  was  deserted  by  all  save  the  treacherous  Cadir 
who  now  abjectly  implored  Hugh  to  forgive  all,  and  that 
everything  should  be  restored  to  him. 

"  Get  up.  thou  cowardly  cur,"  said  Hugh.  "  It  shall  fare 
better  with  thee  than  thou  deservest.  I  go  now,  but  soon  I 
shall  return." 

Passing  through  the  door  to  the  street,  Hugh  saw  the 
guard  approaching,  carrying  the  three  tails,  which  denoted 
the  dignity  of  the  high  official  who  rode  behind  them,  and 
who  was,  to  Hugh's  great  pleasure,  none  other  than  the 
friendly  Abdul.  As  the  Pasha  rode  along,  glancing  care- 
lessly over  the  crowd  on  either  side  of  the  street,  he  sud- 
denly gave  a  start,  and  his  eyes  beamed  with  a  glad  recogni- 
tion as  a  tall,  noble  figure,  towering  almost  head  and  shoul- 
ders above  the  rabble,  attracted  his  gaze,  and,  commanding 
a  halt,  he  hastily  dismounted  and  embraced  our  hero  in  true 
Oriental  fashion. 

"  Oh,  my  friend!"  he  exclaimed,  "  do  I  behold  thee  once 
more  alive  ?  Knowest  thou  the  cause  of  my  visit  to  Hillah 
was  to  search  for  thee  ?  A  rumor  reached  our  ears  that  a 
stranger  Frank  had  been  buried  in  a  ruin  near  here,  and 
knowing  thou  hadst  turned  thy  steps  this  way,  I  felt  almost 
certain  that  it  was  thou.  My  friend,  thou  knowest  not  the 
grief  which  filled  my  heart  when  I  thought  that  thou  wert 
dead,"  And  here  again  Abdul  embraced  him  in  the  warmest 
manner.  ' '  I  traced  the  report  to  its  source,  and  found  a 
man  from  here,  who  told  me  that  thou  hadst  found  in  the 
ruin  a  room  almost  perfect,  and  having  gone  in  to  examine 
it,  the  tunnel  had  caved  in  upon  thee.  He  told  me,  also,  that 
thou  hadst  some  little  provisions  with  thee,  and  I  thought  it 
possible  that  thou  mightst  have  gotten  into  the  ruin  and 
been  there  entrapped,  like  a  mouse  in  a  hole.  Hoping  thy 
victuals  would  last  thee  till  I  could  reach  here,  I  set  out 
immediately,  determined  to  superintend  in  person  the  exca- 
vations for  thy  deliverance,  though  I  feared  I  should 
scarcely  find  thee  alive.  I  have  made,  my  friend,  the 


BEFORE  THE  CADI.  15 

quickest  time  ever  made  by  a  Pasha  from  Bagdad  to  Hillah. 
In  an  hour  from  now  I  should  have  had  every  man  in  Hillah 
working  on  the  ruin.  But  let  us  go  into  the  Cadi's  here, 
and  tell  me  all  about  it." 

Spell-bound  with  astonishment,  the  people  gaped  and 
wondered  at  the  familiarity  of  the  Pasha  with  the  stranger 
Frank.  Paying  no  attention  to  the  rabble  which  clustered 
around  them,  Hugh  and  the  Pasha  walked  arm  in  arm  into 
the  room  in  which  he  had  so  lately  stood,  almost  a  prisoner. 
Here  they  found  the  cowardly  Mustafa,  Mamoun,  the  inn- 
keeper, and  the  treacherous  Masovdee,  in  close  consulta- 
tion. Hugh  requested  the  Pasha  to  have  the  crowd  ex- 
cluded, retaining  only  these  three  men.  His  request  was 
granted,  and  Abdul  seating  himself,  said : 

"  My  friend,  what  hast  thou  to  do  with  these  men  ?  " 

"Oh,  most  noble  Pasha!"  exclaimed  the  Cadi,  falling 
upon  his  knees,  "forgive  thy  unworthy  servant.  It  waff 
anger  which  made  me  do  as  I  did ! " 

"  Get  up,  man,"  said  Abdul;  "no  one  has  yet  accused 
thee."  Then  turning  to  Hugh,  he  continued,  "I  fear  me 
there  has  been  foul  play  in  this  matter;  and  I  swear  by  the 
beard  of  the  Prophet  that  punishment  shall  be  swift  and 
sure,  if  there  has  been." 

"Add,"  said  Hugh,  "such  punishment  as  I  shall  ask, 
and  only  such,  and  I  will  be  satisfied." 

"I  am  afraid,"  said  the  Pasha,  smiling  on  his  friend, 
"that  thy  punishment  would  be  too  light.  But  thou  shalt 
be  judge  in  thine  own  case. 

Hugh  then  proceeded  to  tell  him  the  whole  story.  How 
he  had  hired  the  men,  discharging  and  paying  them  when- 
through  with  them;  how  they  closed  the  tunnel  with  the 
evident  intention  of  causing  the  death  of  himself  and  com- 
panion; how  he  had  made  his  escape  through  the  hyena's 
den,  and  finally  all  about  the  detention  of  his  baggage,  and 
the  disgraceful  scene  in  the  Court.  The  three  culprits 
tremblingly  listened  to  the  whole,  and  denied  not  a  word. 

"Death,"  said  Abdul,   "would   be  too  slight  a  punish- 


'76  SACRIFICE. 

ment,  indeed,  for  such  an  offense;  but,  as  death  is  all  we 
can  inflict,  I  suppose  that  we  will  have  to  be  satisfied.  All 
concerned  in  this  shall  die  to-morrow." 

"Oh,  most  wise  Pasha!  most  merciful  Pasha!  Be  mer- 
ciful to  thy  wicked  servants."  Such  were  the  cries  and 
lamentations  which  fell  from  the  lips  of  the  three  cowardly 
xunians,  as  they  now  groveled  at  the  feet  of  the  Pasha. 

"  Hold!  your  highness,"  said  Hugh,  "  did  you  not  prom- 
ise me  that  I  should  be  judge  in  my  own  case — thai  I  should 
mete  out  the  punishment  to  these  men  that  I  saw  fit  ?  v 

1  'Thou  speakest  aright,  most  noble  Frank!"  replied 
Abdul.  "I  did  promise  thee,  and  Abdul  never  breaks  his 
word.  Do  thou  sentence  thine  own  prisoners." 

"I  thank  your  highness.  I  now  desire,  and  such  is  my 
prayer,  O  noble  Pasha,  that  each  of  these  men  may  be  left 
to  the  reproaches  of  his  own  conscience.  Masovdee  was 
maddened  at  what  he  conceived  to  be  a  great  outrage  upon 
his  brother,  and  sought  to  avenge  him.  My  friend,  the  inn- 
keeper here,  was  influenced  by  him  and  others;  he  refused 
to  let  the  baggage  go  out  of  his  hands  until  to-day." 

' 'True,  most  true,  O  great  Pasha!"  exclaimed  Mamoun. 

"And  then,"  continued  Hugh,  "I  was  to  blame  in  com- 
ing to  the  Cadi,  pretending  to  be  ignorant  of  his  language. 
I  did  it  for  my  own  amusement,  and  should  therefore  suffer 
the  consequences  myself.  It  is  natural  for  every  man  to 
take  sides  with  his  own  countryman  as  against  a  foreigner." 

"  My  friend,"  said  the  Pasha,  "thou  didst  entrap  me  into 
making  this  promise;  but  the  word  of  Abdul  is  passed,  and 
must  not  now  be  retracted."  Turning  to  the  three  mis- 
creants, he  said,  "'At  the  prayer  of  this  most  generous 
Frank,  whom  thou  sought  first  to  murder,  then  to  rob  and 
imprison,  I  pardon  thee.  Go,  thou  rascals,  and  henceforth 
be  honest,  or  the  next  time  I  hear  of  thee  there  may  be  no 
forgiving  friend  to  intercede  for  thee." 

Mamoun  and  Masovdee  took  their  leave,  congratulating 
themselves  at  having  escaped  a  condign  punishment.  Mus- 
ttafa  betook  himself  to  another  room,  fearful  lest  Hugh  might 


BEFORE  THE   CADI.  IT 

yet  revoke  his  generous  decision,  and  permit  the  Pasha  to- 
do  with  him  as  he  so  richly  deserved.  His  base  nature 
could  not  comprehend  the  true  nobility  of  a  soul  which 
could  forgive  and  forget  an  injury. 

After  spending  some  time  longer  in  conversation,  Hugh 
and  the  Pasha  made  their  way  to  Mamoun's  inn,  where,  to 
that  worthy's  great  delight,  they  spent  the  night.  On  going 
to  his  old  room,  Hugh  found  his  trunks,  their  contents  being 
just  as  he  had  left  them,  and,  once  more  donning  his  own 
attire,  he  felt  and  looked  more  like  a  free-born  white  man, 
than  he  had  for  some  days  past.  In  the  morning  the  Pasha 
and  guards  departed  for  Bagdad,  after  many  mutual  thanks, 
regrets  and  embraces. 

On  his  arrival  at  the  inn,  Hugh  had  found  his  little,  old 
friend  Isaac,  awaiting  him,  seemingly  anxious  to  learn  all 
that  had  occurred.  He  briefly  related  to  him  the  events  of 
the  past  few  hours.  In  the  morning,  after  the  departure  of 
the  Pasha,  they  held  a  long  conference  over  matters  in  gen- 
eral, when  Hugh  said: 

' '  Isaac,  I  have  a  thought  that  it  is  not  the  will  of  the 
Almighty  that  those  sacred  vessels  shall  be  removed  from 
the  room  till  the  restoration  of  Jerusalem,  and  the  rebuild- 
ing of  the  Temple;  else,  why  has  He  so  carefully  guarded 
them  from  every  curious  eye  for  so  many  centuries;  and, 
when  a*t  last  we,  more  presumptuous  than  others,  have  dared 
to  penetrate  that  dark  room,  has  He  not  plainly  shown  His 
displeasure  by  barely  allowing  us  to  escape  a  fearful  death  ?  "" 

"  I  dells  you,  dat  vas  mine  idea  too,  an'  I  vas  very  particu- 
lar dat  de  leetle  cup  I  took  from  de  room  vas  not  von  of  de 
sacred  vessels  of  de  Temple." 

"  I  would  not  for  all  this  world  holds  precious,"  said  Hugh, 
earnestly,"  again  enter  that  room  for  the  purpose  of  remov- 
ing one  of  those  vessels.  The  sacrilegious  use  of  thena 
brought  ruin  and  desolation  upon  Babylon,  and  they  would 
certainly  bring  God's  curse  upon  any  one  who  would  under- 
take to  appropriate  them.  If  you  choose  to  brave  that 
responsibility  you  may  do  so,  but  I  for  one  shall  consider 


78  SACRIFICE. 

that  room  as  forever  sacredly  sealed  from  human  intrusion." 

"An1 1  swears  to  you,  by  de  God  of  Abraham,  an'  by  de 
Christ  you  worship,  dat  I  vill  never  touch  him,"  said  Isaac, 
in  so  earnest  a  tone  and  manner  that  Hugh  was  compelled 
to  believe  him. 

"I  intend  leaving  here,"  said  Hugh,  "in  a  day  or  two  at 
the  farthest,  and  journeying  towards  Jerusalem.  What  do 
you  intend  to  do  with  yourself,  Isaac  ?  " 

"Dat  ish  more  as  I  knows  now.  I  vinds  up  von  leetle 
beesness  here,  an'  den,  maybees,  I  goes  dat  vay  too,  or, 
maybees,  I  goes  to  de  Dead  Sea,  for  dere  I  trades  mit  de 
natives.  I  dells  you,  Meester  Ashby,  dat  for  von,  who,  like 
yourself,  ish  not  afraid,  dere  bees  many  curious  dings  about 
dat  blace.  De  Arab  hafe  many  traditions  about  dose  weeked 
cities,  Sodom  an'  Gomorrah,  vich  dey  say  vas  somewhere 
about  dat  sea." 

"The  Dead  Sea!"  exclaimed  Hugh.  "Thank  you,  Isaac, 
for  the  reminder.  I  had  almost  forgotten  that  such  a  place 
was  extant.  My  childhood's  curiosity  would  not  be  satisfied 
did  I  not  visit  that  place.  I  shall  surely  do  so  before  I  re- 
turn to  America,  and  perhaps  soon." 

"Dat  ish  goot;  maybees  ve  sleeps  togedder  in  de  ruins  of 
Gomorrah !  he !  he !  he ! " 

"As  unlikely  things  as  that  have  happened,"  responded 
Hugh,  as  they  separated.  . 

A  few  days  afterward  Hugh  continued  his  tour  in  the 
direction  of  the  Holy  Land,  leaving  the  old  Jew  at  Hillah. 
Their  parting  was  affecting,  and,  as  the  old  man  gave  Hugh's 
hand  a  last  pressure,  he  said  impressively.  "I  vill  meet 
you  again  at  a  dime  an'  blace  you  leetle  dinks." 

******* 

The  inhabitants  of  Hillah  wondered  why  the  Pasha  of 
Bagdad  took  so  much  interest  in  the  welfare  of  Hugh  Ashby 
.and  as  the  reader's  curiosity  may  have  also  been  aroused  on 
that  point,  we  will  as  briefly  as  possible  explain. 

A  few  months  before  our  hero  came  to  Hillah  he  had 
visited  Bagdad,  taking  with  him  a  letter  of  introduction  to 


BEFORE  THE  CADI.  79 

the  Pasha  from  an  English  officer  with  whom  he  had  become 
acquainted  while  in  Calcutta.     The  Pasha  was  fond  of  com- 
pany, and  from  the  first  took  a  great  fancy  to  our  friend. 
It  was  the  practice  of  Abdul  to  go  out  about  once  a  month 
to  hunt  the  lion  or  tiger,  and,  as  preparations  were  being 
made  at  the  time  of  Hugh's  arrival  for  this  sport,  he  was 
invited  to   accompany  him  and  enjoy  this  exciting  recrea- 
tion, which  invitation,  of  course,  he  accepted.     They  had 
tracked  a  large  lion  to  a  small  jungle.     There  the  party, 
dividing  into  squads,  surrounded  it,  leaving  Abdul,  Hugh 
and  several  others  at  the  spot  where  he  would  be  most  likely 
to  come  out.     The  animal  finding  himself  at  bay,  made  a 
last  bold  dash  right  through  the  Pasha's  party.     Although 
on  the  watch  for  him,  yet  so  quick  was  his  movement  that 
no  one  was  prepared  for  him.     The  attendants  all  turning  to 
run  did  not  see  that  Abdul  had  fallen,  and  was  now  lying  at 
the  mercy  of  the  beast,  who  had  stopped  in  his  career,  and, 
placing  his  forepaws  upon  the  back  of  the  fallen  man,  raised 
his  head  to  look  around,  shook  his  tawny  mane,  and  sent 
forth  from  his  capacious  throat  a  deep,  defiant  roar.     Poor 
Abdul  tremblingly  awaited  the  moment  when  those  terrible 
jaws  would  close  upon  his  neck.     Again  that  shaggy  head 
was  raised,    and   once  more   that   terrific   roar  resounded 
throughout  the  jungle;  but  this  time  another  sound  mingled 
with  it,  that  of  a  rifle  shot  from  the  hands  of  Hugh  Ashby, 
and  the  powerful  animal  rolled  over  in  the  last  agonizing 
pangs  of  death.     Hugh  had  watched  the  moment  when  the 
animal's  head   was  raised,  and,  stepping  quickly  forward, 
raised  his  rifle,  took  steady  aim  and  fired.     The  Pasha  was 
really  a  brave  and  generous  man,  and  after  this  little  affair 
a  mutual  admiration  sprang  up  between  them.     In  addition 
to  his  own  letters  he  procured  others  from  the  Sultan  him- 
self, commanding  any  subject  of  the  empire  to  render  Hugh 
assistance,  and  giving  him  the  privilege  of  making  researches 
in  any  portion  thereof. 


CHAPTER  X. 


CHRISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM. 

>OT  long  after  parting  with  Isaac,  Hugh  left  Hillah,, 
and,  bending  his  steps  toward  Judea,  we  find  him,  a. 
few  days  before  Christmas,  at  Bethlehem,  the  birth- 
place of  the  incarnate  God.  It  had  always  been  his 
desire  to  spend  that  festival  in  the  place  so  pregnant 
with  holy  memories  of  the  infant  Saviour,  and  at  last  that 
desire  was  about  to  be  gratified. 

Bethlehem  is  one  of  the  oldest  cities  in  the  world,  having 
a  history  of  more  than  3,600  years.  At  the  present  day  it 
contains  a  population  of  about  5,000 — all  'Christians,  a 
majority  of  whom  are  Catholics.  It  is  the  cradle  of  Chris- 
tianity, and  is  connected  with  so  many  holy  remembrances 
that  the  Christian  feels  an  interest  in  it  that  he  has  for  no 
other  place.  The  atmosphere  around  it  seems  to  be  sacred. 
The  pilgrim  is  shown  the  grotto  in  which  our  Saviour  was 
born,  it  being  a  cavity  in  the  solid  rock,  now  lined  with 
white  marble.  It  has  no  windows,  so  the  light  of  day  never 
enters  it,  but  the  interior  is  illumined  by  twenty-nine  silver 
lamps,  which  are  kept  burning  night  and  day .  On  the  spot 
designated  as  the  immediate  birth-place  of  our  Lord  is 
fastened  a  silver  star,  on  which  is  engraved  in  Latin  the 
legend : 

* 

"HERE  JESUS    CHRIST  WAS    BORN    OF  THE    VIRGIN    MARY 


Here  an  altar  has  been  erected  under  which  fifteen  lamps  are 
suspended  and  also  kept  forever  burning.  The  grotto  is 
thirty-two  feet  in  length  by  eleven  in  width,  and  twelve  feet 
in  height.  It  is  reached  by  sixteen  marble  steps  descending 
into  it.  They,  as  well  as  the  marble  pavement,  are  worn  by 


CHRISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM.  81 

the  feet,  the  knees,  nay,  the  lips  of  the  pilgrim  generations 
of  centuries.  At  Bethlehem  David  was  born,  and  at  Beth- 
lehem Samuel  annointed  him  King  over  Israel. 

Hugh  had  visited  the  grotto  above  described;  he  had  con- 
templated the  cave  where  St.  Jerome  lived  and  studied  for 
thirty-five  years;  he  had  seen  the  subterranean  chapel  where 
tradition  places  the  sepulture  of  some  thousands  of  the 
infant  victims  to  Herod's  cruelty,  and  was  now  walking  the 
street  wondering  how  he  could  best  spend  Christmas  in  such 
a  holy  place,  when  he  heard  near  him  the  voices  of  many 
children.  On  looking  around  he  found  himself  close  upon 
the  orphan  asylum  under  the  charge  of  the  "  Mission  of  the 
Holy  Family."  Struck  with  a  sudden  resolve,  he  entered 
and  called  for  the  Director. 

After  waiting  a  few  moments  in  the  plainly-furnished  par- 
lor, a  dignified-looking  priest  entered,  evidently  an  Italian, 
who,  in  response  to  Hugh's  self-introduction,  announced 
himself  as  Father  Belloni,  the  Director  of  the  asylum. 

"  I  am,"  said  Hugh  to  that  reverend  gentleman,  "a  tourist 
of  some  means  from  the  State  of  California,  in  the  United 
States ;  and,  as  I  am  to  spend  Christmas  in  your  little  city,  I 
have  been  at  a  loss  how  to  devote  that  day  in  a  way  to  be 
most  pleasing  to  the  Infant  Saviour,  should  He  appear  in  our 
midst  as  he  did  when  his  mother  laid  Him  in  yonder  stable. 
I  was  passing  by  when  I  heard  the  voices  of  the  orphans  in 
your  charge,  and  the  thought  occurred  to  me  that  here,  at 
least,  I  might  give*'a  day's  happiness  to  many  young  hearts. 
Moved  by  this  sudden  impulse  I  entered,  determined  to  pro- 
pose to  bear  the  expenses  of  a  grand  Christmas  feast  for 
your  orphans,  and  also  for  as  many  more  poor  children  as 
you  can  find.  I  desire  none  to  be  neglected.  And,  with 
your  kind  permission,  I  should  like  very  much  to  dine  with 
them.  What  think  you  of  my  plan,  reverend  sir  ?  " 

* '  I  think  it  the  offering  of  a  very  generous  heart,  and  may 
God  bless  you  for  it,"  responded  the  good  Father.  "  On  the 
part  of  the  children,  I  return  you  a  thousand  thanks,  and 

accept  your  most  kind  offer  in  the  same  spirit  with  which 
6 


82  SACRIFICE. 

it  is  proffered.  Our  poor  children  will  enjoy  such  a  treat, 
and  long  remember  it." 

' '  I  desire  that  you  spare  no  expense  in  doing  all  that  you 
think  would  give  the  little  ones  pleasure.  How  many  chil- 
dren can  you  provide  for  ?  " 

"  We  have  here,"  said  the  Father,  "  about  one  hundred, 
and  we  might  possibly  find,  on  such  an  occasion  as  this, 
room  for  a  couple  of  hundred  more,  if  that  would  not  be  tax- 
ing the  gentleman's  generosity  too  much." 

"It  would  please  me  all  the  more,"  replied  Hugh,  "if 
there  were  a  thousand.  And,  in  selecting  from  the  outside, 
please  take  those  poor  little  things  who  have  never  known 
what  it  was  to  have  a  really  good  dinner.  We  will  aim  to 
make  this  Christmas  the  one  bright  oasis  in  the  desert  of 
their  poor  young  lives." 

After  placing  in  the  director's  hands  twice  the  amount  of 
the  estimated  cost  of  the  feast,  and  requesting  him  to  spend 
all  for  the  benefit  of  the  children  on  that  day,  Hugh  left, 
with  the  promise  to  return  again  on  Christmas  and  dine 
with  the  three  hundred  poor  children  of  Bethlehem.  As  he 
walked  out  through  the  groups  of  grave,  solemn-looking 
boys,  he  felt  in  a  thorough  good  humor  with  himself,  as  all 
men  do  when  they  have  begun  a  good  work.  In  this  frame 
of  mind  he  went  to  his  room  and  wrote  a  long  letter  to 
Miriam  Howard.  He  said  nothing  of  his  sufferings  in,  or 
his  narrow  escape  from  the  ruins  of  Babylon,  writing  only 
of  the  pleasing  incidents  of  his  travels.  •" 

Christmas  morning  shone  out  bright  and  beautiful  in  that 
little  town  of  holy  memories.  The  joyous  peals  from  the 
church  bells  seemed  to  announce  once  more  the  glad  tid- 
ings: "This  day  is  born  to  you  a  Saviour,  who  is  Christ  the 
Lord;"  and  sorrowful  or  hardened  indeed  was  the  heart  that 
felt  not  the  influence  of  that  angelic  benediction,  "Peace 
on  earth  to  men  of  good  will ! "  Children  could  be  seen 
making  their  way  from  every  quarter  towards  the  orphanage, 
and  each  young  heart,  notwithstanding  the  sedate  exterior, 
beat  high  in  joyous  anticipation  of  the  good  things  in  store 


CHBISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM.  83 

for  them.  Hugh  had  looked  forward  to  this  day  with  as 
much  pleasure  as  any  of  his  little  guests,  and  at  two  o'clock, 
the  appointed  hour,  he  walked  over  to  the  asylum  with  a 
light  step  and  happy  heart.  He  was  met  at  the  door  by  the 
reverend  director  and  conducted  to  the  grounds  where  the 
children  were  congregated  in  groups,  talking  and  laughing 
merrily  with  one  another.  An  Arab  child,  being  grave  in 
nature,  never  indulges  in  games.  As  Hugh  came  among 
them,  every  child  respectfully  rose  to  his  feet  to  give  him 
welcome,  and  the  look  of  gratitude  and  pleasure  which 
beamed  in  every  young  face  caused  his  heart  to  swell  with 
happy  emotions.  He  wondered  within  himself  why  it  was 
that  people  to  whom  God  had  given  the  means  were  not 
always  performing  some  such  act  of  charity,  even  though 
for  no  higher  purpose  than  their  own  gratification. 

The  tables  had  been  spread  under  a  temporary  shelter 
erected  for  the  occasion,  and  after  Hugh  had  spoken  kindly 
first  to  one  child  and  then  another,  Father  Belloni  conducted 
him  to  a  seat  where  he  could  at  his  pleasure  overlook  the 
whole  scene.  The  orphans  of  the  asylum  all  looked  clean 
and  neat,  with  their  small  tasselled  caps,  and  their  loose- 
fitting  white  garments  coming  to  about  their  knees,  under 
which  dark  pantaloons  reached  to  their  shoe-tops.  Hugh 
had  not  been  aware  until  now  that  this  was  an  asylum  for 
boys  alone,  and  that  the  girls  were  attended  by  some  Sisters 
in  another  convent  not  far  distant.  However,  the  good 
Father,  understanding  the  wishes  of  his  new  acquaintance, 
had  attended  to  it  that  he  should  not  be  disappointed  on 
that  score,  and  had  provided  a  separate  feast  for  the  girls  in 
their  own  home.  Hugh  thanked  him  for  so  well  fulfilling 
his  intentions.  The  children  from  the  outside  wore,  gener- 
ally, tattered  yet  clean  garments,  and  each  had  evidently 
made  some  unusual  effort  in  dress  to  do  honor  to  the  occa- 
sion. Many  nationalities  were  here  represented,  but  the 
majority  were  of  the  native  Arab  stock.  After  conversing  a 
while  on  general  topics  the  good  Father,  looking  at  the 
groups  of  happy  children,  remarked  to  Hugh : 


84  SACRIFICE. 

"When  we  look  on  those  joyous  faces,  and  see  the  smile 
of  pleasure  which  overspreads  even  the  countenance  of  our 
usually  grave  little  Arab,  we  must  know,  Mr.  Ashby,  that 
such  charity  as  this  is  pleasing  in  the  sight  of  God." 

"It  must  be  so,"  said  Hugh,  "else  why  should  the  donor 
so  fully  partake  of  the  happiness  he  bestows  on  others  ?  And 
yet,  reverend  sir,  I  am  somewhat  skeptical  as  to  the  absolute 
merit  of  these  small  charities,  given  out  of  great  abun- 
dance." 

"  There  is  merit  in  all  charities,"  returned  the  Father. 

"  Why  should  there  be  merit  where  there  is  no  sacrifice  ?  " 
asked  Hugh.  "Here  am  I,  for  example,  who,  having 
devoted  my  income  for  a  day  or  two  toward  giving  these 
little  ones  a  momentary  pleasure,  am  feeling  as  good  and  as 
self-satisfied  as  though  I  had  sacrificed  something.  The  man 
of  wealth  often  spends  his  means  in  giving  his  compeers  fine 
entertainments.  He  does  it  for  his  own  pleasure;  if  he  did 
not  enjoy  it,  he  would  not  do  it.  Now,  I  take  a  fancy  that  I 
would  like  to  add  a  moment's  happiness  to  the  lives  of  a  lot 
of  children.  I  spend  no  more  on  this  than  I  would  spend 
on  an  evening's  entertainment  at  home,  and  straightway  I 
congratulate  myself  on  being  such  a  noble,  charitable  young 
man." 

"I  think,  my  son,  that  you  are  not  just  with  yourself. 
You  have  more  merit,  perhaps,  in  the  sight  of  your  Maker, 
than  you  are  disposed  to  give  yourself  credit  for.  The 
essence  of  charity  is,  indeed,  the  motive.  Every  charitable 
action  ought  to  be  done  for  the  pure  love  of  God  and  His 
creatures;  yet,  it  has  its  merit,  even  though  a  less  exalted 
motive  actuate  it,  for  it  is  an  indication  of  the  love  the  giver 
bears  to  all  God's  creatures." 

"I  argue  that  way  myself,  sometimes,"  said  Hugh,  "but 
then  again  I  feel  that  there  can  be  no  real  charity  without 
some  sacrifice.  I  feel  that  sacrifice  as  well  as  motive  must 
be  of  the  essence." 

"Sacrifice,    my  son,"    said  Father  Belloni,    "certainly 


CHRISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM.  85 

adds  to  the  essence,  but  I  hold  that  it  is  not  always  neces- 
sary to  real  charity." 

"Some  time  ago,"  said  Hugh,  "before  I  left  home,  a 
poor  fellow  with  whom  I  was  acquainted  was  suddenly 
stricken  with  paralysis.  The  attendant  physician  recom- 
mended the  waters  of  a  certain  mineral  spring,  but  he  being 
penniless  as  well  as  helpless,  could  not  hire  the  nurse  his 
condition  required.  A  day  laborer  and  friend  of  the  sick 
man  came  to  me  and  proposed  that,  if  I  would  pay  the  board 
of  the  two  at  the  springs,  he  would  go  with  the  poor 
paralytic  and  wait  on  him  as  long  as  was  necessary.  I  did 
this,  feeling  glad  to  be  able  to  assist  a  suffering  fellow-crea- 
ture. Well,  I  thought  no  more  of  it  until  a  prominent 
newspaper  gave  publicity  to  my  '  noble  action'  in  paying  the 
board  of  two  poor  men  for  an  indefinite  time,  but  did  not 
think  it  worth  while  to  mention  even  the  name  of  the  gener- 
ous fellow  who  quit  his  daily  work,  which  was  his  only 
capital,  to  go  and  attend  his  sick  and  suffering  friend.  As 
it  happened,  this  man  was  the  first  to  see  the  newspaper 
paragraph  and  read  it  joyously  to  me,  glad  that  I  had  been 
given  proper  credit;  but  he  did  not  seem  to  take  notice  of  the 
omission  of  his  own  name,  or  to  think  he  was  entitled  to  any 
credit  in  the  affair.  Apparently,  in  his  opinion,  it  was  all 
right  that  the  rich  should  be  praised  for  doing  nothing  more 
than  their  duty,  while  the  poor  man  might  scuffle  along  as 
best  he  could.  I  was  struck  with  consternation  at  the  differ- 
ence between  the  charities  of  the  two,  and  wrth  a  realizing 
sense  of  the  fact  that  I  had  never  done  a  really  charitable, 
action  in  my  life." 

"  God  has  undoubtedly  placed  great  responsibilities,"  said 
the  Father,  "  on  those  to  whom  He  has  given  great  riches; 
and  hence  it  is  that  the  rich  man,  going  to  heaven,  is  com- 
pared to  the  camel  going  through  the  eye  of  the  needle.  But, 
then,  those  who  have  received  such  a  surplus  of  this  world's 
wealth  may  do  much  good  to  poor,  suffering  humanity,  and 
at  the  same  time  help  to  insure  their  own  salvation  by 
giving  with  the  proper  motives." 


86  SACRIFICE. 

Here  the  attendants  announced  that  dinner  was  ready,  and 
at  a  signal  from  one  of  the  Fathers  the  crowd  of  hungry 
children  were  marshalled  to  their  respective  places  at  the 
tables.  Father  Belloni  insisted  that  Hugh  should  be  seated 
at  the  head  of  the  principal  table,  and  do  the  honors  of  the 
occasion.  Never  before  had  any  of  the  children  beheld  such 
a  sumptuous  repast.  All  the  delicacies  of  the  market  had 
been  procured  and  experienced  persons  engaged  to  wait  on 
the  little  ones.  Hugh  addressed  a  few  words  to  them,  telling 
them  in  whose  honor  this  feast  was  given — reminding  them 
of  the  little  Babe,  who,  over  eighteen  hundred  years  ago,  lay 
weeping  and  wailing  in  a  miserable  manger  in  this  very  city; 
born  poorer  than  either  of  them,  showing  by  this  that  the 
poorer  and  more  humble  they  are  the  more  dear  they  are  to 
His  Sacred  Heart.  He  enjoined  them,  as  the  little  country- 
men of  the  Infant  God,  to  always  strive  to  live  in  a  manner 
pleasing  to  Him;  and  that  when  future  years  should  have 
rolled  over  their  heads,  and  their  thoughts  would  revert  to 
this  day,  he  asked  them  to  then  remember  one  whom  the 
Holy  Infant  had  this  day  made  the  instrument  of  so  much 
pleasure  to  them.  Knowing  the  little  fellows  were  hungry, 
Hugh  detained  them  but  afmoment,  and,  after  grace  pro- 
nounced by  Father  Belloni,  they  were  set  to  work  to  demol- 
ish the  viands  before  them.  Hugh  enjoyed  the  meal  him- 
self, and  remarked  to  the  good  Father  on  his  right  that  this 
day  should  be  noted  down  as  one  of  the  happiest  of  his  life. 

As  the  dinner  progressed,  Hugh  noticed  a  sad-looking, 
pale-faced  little  fellow,  about  ten  years  of  age,  who  looked 
wistfully  at  everything,  but  scarcely  tasted  of  the  dainties 
placed  before  him.  As  Hugh  watched  him  he  saw  the 
tears  gather  in  the  lustrous  black  eyes,  then  roll  slowly 
down  his  cheeks .  Leaving  his  seat  at  the  table  and  going 
around  to  where  the  child  sat,  Hugh  leaned  over  him  and 
said  kindly: 

"  "Why  can't  you  eat,  child  ?    Are  you  sick  ?" 

"  Something  rises  up  here,"  he  replied,  pointing  to  his 
throat,  "so  that  I  can't  swallow,  when  I  think  of  eating  all 


CHRISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM.  87 

these  good  things,  and  my  poor  mother  at  home  sick,  with 
nothing  but  dry  bread  to  eat." 

And  "something"  also  arose  in  the  big,  strong  man's 
throat,  so  that  for  a  moment  he  could  not  speak;  then  gather- 
ing the  delicate  little  form  in  his  great,  strong  arms,  and 
kissing  the  tears  away,  he  said : 

"  Eat  my  little  one;  eat  all  you  can,  and  your  mother  shall 
have  a  dinner  too." 

"  Then  let  me  take  some  home  now,  and  eat  it  with  her," 
said  the  child. 

"Just  as  you  please,  my  child,"  and  procuring  a  basket, 
Hugh,  with  his  own  hands,  filled  it  as  full  as  the  child  could 
carry,  with  provisions  for  the  mother,  and  sent  him  home 
rejoicing.  After  dinner  was  over,  and  the  children  dis- 
persed throughout  the  grounds,  Hugh  asked  Father  Bel- 
loni  if  he  knew  the  mother  of  the  boy  who  had  so  inter- 
ested him. 

"I  do,"  said  the  Father.  "She  is,  poor  woman,  on  the 
verge  of  the  grave  with  consumption,  and  all  she  has  is  what 
can  be  spared  from  the  asylum;"  and,  noticing  a  perplexed 
look  in  Hugh's  face,  and  surmising  that  he  was  wondering 
why  so  little  was  spared,  continued :  "You  cannot  know  the 
amount  of  misery  and  suffering  to  be  found  throughout 
this  city.  The  preparations  for  war  with  Russia  have  taken 
away  our  best  men.  This  has  been  a  year  of  drouth,  and 
many  are  on  the  point  of  starvation.  We  go  out  and  beg  of 
the  rich  in  order  to  give  to  the  poor.  We  are  looked  upon 
by  some  as  a  nest  of  mendicants  who  would  rather  beg  than 
work,  and  as  such  are  often  spurned  from  the  doors  at  which 
we  solicit  charity.  We  have  men  in  our  Mission  who  have 
been  reared  in  wealth  and  who  have  given  up  all  and  joy- 
fully devoted  their  lives  to  helping  God's  poor;  and  this 
they  do,  my  dear  sir,  by  begging — asking  alms  of  all  who  are 
able  to  give.  You  spoke  of  sacrifice  a  while  ago;  would  not 
such  a  life  grate  on  your  pride  ?  I  have  here  a  letter  from 
one  of  our  missionaries  who  is  now  traveling  in  your  own 
United  States,  soliciting  aid  for  our  orphans.  He  was  raised 


88  SACRIFICE. 

in  wealth,  an  only  child,  and  of  a  gentle,  tender  disposition. 
Let  me  read  you  an  extract  from  his  letter,"  and,  taking  it 
from  his  pocket,  he  began  to  read.  *  "  '  I 

began  to  pray  for  long  days  for  God  to  send  me  a  cross,  for 
I  felt  the  very  impossibility  of  reaching  Heaven  without  one. 
He  heard,  in  His  boundless  mercy,  my  just  prayer,  and  sent 
me  that  of  the  countless  crosses  I  never  dreamed  of — I  mean 
that  of  begging.  *  I  never  feel  so  happy  as 

when  I  am  asked,  at  some  semi-open  door  of  a  splendid  man- 
sion, "  What  do  you  want?"  That  is  the  cross.  Blessed  be 
God!' 

"  Now,"  continued  Father  Belloni,  as  Hugh  seemed  very 
much  interested,  ' '  this  poor  woman  is  given  bread  only, 
because  we  have  nothing  else  to  give.  The  bread  must  be 
made  to  go  around.  Not  one  of  the  Fathers  of  this  commu- 
nity has  eaten  anything  but  bread  and  water,  and  sometimes 
.a  few  figs,  for  months.  Not  one  of  them  has  tasted  of  this 
banquet.  The  scraps  must  all  be  eked  out  to  our  poor.  We 
hope  for  better  times — for  crops — and  for  peace.  The  trade 
of  this  city  is  largely  with  the  pilgrims  and  tourists;  but  in 
these  troublesome  times  few  come,  and  then  suffering  fol- 
lows. Just  now,  we  have  a  combination  of  ills." 

Hugh  was  silent  for  some  moments,  absorbed  in  thought. 
It  seemed  to  him  that  every  time  he  undertook  to  perform 
what  he  fancied  to  be  a  charitable  action,  something  would 
rise  up  to  shqw  him  how  far  short  of  the  mark  he  came. 

Father  Belloni  seemed  to  divine  his  thoughts,  and  again 
spoke : 

"Pardon  me,  my  dear  sir.  I  did  not  intend  to  bring  up 
anything  about  these  poor  people,  but  it  seemed  that  the 
fact  of  our  knowing  this  woman  and  letting  her  suffer, 
needed  some  explanation." 

"You  have  just  confirmed  my  position,''  said  Hugh,  "that 
there  could  be  no  real  charity  without  sacrifice.  All  else  is 
only  a  vain  imitation.  I  have  been  called  kind-hearted  and 
charitable,  like  many  another  undeserving  man,  by  those 
who  knew  not  the  meaning  of  the  word  charity,  and  I  am 


CHRISTMAS  AT  BETHLEHEM.  89 

afraid  that  I  have  always  given  simply  to  enjoy  the  pleasure 
I  have  derived  from  so  doing.  But  it  may  not  always  be 
thus.  Will  you,  reverend  Father,  go  with  me  to  visit  the 
poor  of  this  city  ?  " 

"With  pleasure,"  gladly  responded  the  Father;  "I  shall 
be  at  your  service  to-morrow." 

The  Angelus  bell,  then  ringing  out  the  hour  of  six,  warned 
Hugh  that  he  was  detaining  the  director  from  his  duties, 
and,  looking  over  the  grounds,  he  saw  that  most  of  the  chil- 
dren had  departed  for  their  homes.  Then,  with  a  warm 
hand  pressure  from  the  Father,  and  a  hearty  invitation  to 
visit  him  again,  he  returned  to  his  room  at  the  inn,  ponder- 
ing all  the  way  over  all  that  he  had  seen  and  heard  on  this 
Ohristmas  day. 


CHAPTER  XL 


THE  DEAD  SEA. 

iHE  first  thing  Hugh  did  at  Bethlehem  was  to  pur- 
chase a  fine  Arabian  horse,  on  which  to  visit  the 
different  points  of  interest  in  the  Holy  Land,  and  his 
intention  was  to  make  a  pretty  thorough  examination 
of  the  country.  Although  there  are  villages  in  every 
direction,  where  a  sort  of  accommodation  may  be  had,  yet  it 
was  Hugh's  custom  to  take  with  him  a  small  coffee-pot,  some 
bedding,  and  rations  sufficient  for  a  day  or  two.  He  did 
not  intend  to  skim  the  country  over  like  the  ordinary  tour- 
ist, who  flits  hither  and  thilher  like  the  butterfly,  and 
derives  little  or  no  benefit  from  what  he  sees.  Having 
heard  of  a  party  of  Englishmen,  under  command  of  Lieut. 
Conder,  of  the  Eoyal  Engineers,  sent  out  by  the  "Pales- 
tine Exploration  Fund,"  for  the  purpose  of  making  a  com- 
plete survey  of  the  Holy  Land,  he  determined  to  visit  their 
camp.  They  were  then  encamped  at  the  fountain  of  Ain 
Jidy,  near  the  shore  of  the  Dead  Sea.  Hither,  about  three 
weeks  after  Christmas,  he  directed  his  course.  He  found  in 
the  camp  Mr.  Terwitt  Drake,  the  naturalist  and  linguist  of 
the  party,  who,  though  not  yet  above  thirty  years  of  age, 
had  already  gained  considerable  renown  as  a  traveler,  lin- 
guist and  archaeologist.  Mr.  Drake  saw  at  a  glance,  from 
Hugh's  outfit  and  his  general  appearance,  that  he  was  not  of 
the  ordinary  class  of  travelers  who  go  through  Palestine 
for  the  mere  sake  of  saying  they  had  been  there,  and  who 
ask  questions  with  no  apparent  purpose  other  than  to  put 
one  to  the  trouble  of  answering  them,  and  he  took  pains  to 
give  him  a  hearty  welcome.  Hugh  found  it  unnecessary  to 
produce  his  letters  to  show  that  he  was  entitled  to  con- 
sideration. 


THE  DEAD  SEA.  911 

"  We  shall  be  much  pleased,"  said  Mr.  Drake,  "to  render 
you  all  the  assistance  in  our  power.  We  are  making  a  map 
of  this  country,  on  the  scale  of  one  inch  to  the  mile,  and 
intend  to  fill  in  every  important  object.  We  have  much  of 
it  done  now,  and,  should  you  like,  you  can  have  access  to 
the  rough  draft  and  take  such  notes  as  you  may  desire." 

"I  am  under  many  obligations,  sir,"  said  Hugh,  "for 
your  kind  offer,  and  shall  assuredly  avail  myself  of  it.  How 
is  your  work  progressing  ?  " 

' '  Our  party  have  nearly  completed  its  work,  but  I  fear  me* 
much,"  continued  Mr.  Drake,  "that  this  part  of  the  country 
will  have  to  be  slighted,  as  our  men  are  all  getting  sick.  I 
have  myself  been  unable  to  do  anything  since  I  came  here. 
In  fact,  although  this  is  no  Paradise,  yet  it  is  the  only  spot 
around  the  sea  fit  for  a  camp." 

"  Do  you  find  any  difficulty  in  deciphering  the  ancient 
inscriptions  you  find  ?  "  asked  Hugh. 

"None  whatever.  Immutability  is  the  most  striking  law 
of  Eastern  life.  For  thousands  of  years  these  people  have 
gone  on,  living  in  the  same  place  and  speaking  the  same 
tongue.  In  fact,  if  we  may  judge  from  language,  the  Fella- 
hin  of  to-day  are  the  lineal  descendants  of  the  pre-Israelite 
population,  which  has  never  become  entirely  extinct." 

"Then  you  think  if  you  were  to  meet  one,"  said  Hugh, 
"who  inhabited  this  country  before  Abraham  pitched  his 
tents  upon  these  plains,  you  could  converse  with  him  ?  " 

"I  do;  in  fact,  I  almost  know  it." 

After  some  further  talk  upon  this  subject,  Mr.  Drake  re- 
marked : 

"As  for  the  city  of  Gomorrah,  tradition  places  it  on  the 
southwestern  shore  of  the  sea,  although  there  is  authority 
for  locating  it  on  or  near  the  Jordan,  at  the  north  end. 
Somehow  I  am  impressed  with  the  belief  that  tradition  is 
right.  I  think  it  was  a  small  city,  much  smaller  than 
Sodom.  An  old  Arab,  who  looked  as  if  he  might  have  been, 
a  resurrected  inhabitant  of  one  of  those  sunken  cities,  told 
me  to  excavate  on  the  southwestern  shore;  he  would  show 


92  SACRIFICE. 

me  the  exact  spot,  and  I  would  find  Gomorrah.  Of  course, 
it  would  not  do  to  commence  work  on  such  authority  as  this. 
And,  as  I  have  told  you,  I  have  been  unable  to  work  myself 
for  some  time,  and  you  see  our  camp  is  a  hospital  rather 
than  the  abode  of  a  corps  of  robust  explorers,  as  we  cer- 
tainly were  some  months  ago." 

' '  Then  what  are  you  doing  at  this  place  now  ?  "  questioned 
Hugh. 

"  We  are  simply  making  some  hasty  triangulations;  but 
this  is  almost  superfluous,  as  we  find  that  the  sea  and  its 
surroundings  have  been  very  correctly  mapped  by  your 
countryman,  Lieutenant  Lynch,  as  long  ago  as  1848." 

"The  Dead  Sea,  its  history  and  traditions,  have  always 
had  a  wonderful  charm  for  me,"  said  Hugh,  and  I  think  I 
shall  try  some  explorations  on  my  own  account." 

"  It  will  be  an  impossible  undertaking  all  alone,"  remarked 
Mr.  Drake. 

"I  have  succeeded  remarkably  well,  so  far,"  answered 
Hugh,  "and  I  have  not  yet  found  cause  to  regret  being 
alone.  I  then  have  perfect  command  of  my  own  party.  If 
I  want  work  done,  there  are  always  plenty  of  willing  hands 
to  be  found  for  the  money." 

"  Then  do  you  propose  to  make  excavations  in  this  neigh- 
borhood? Let  me  tell  you  in  advance,  my  friend,  that  your 
health  will  be  sacrificed  in  any  such  attempt.  Even  the 
Arabs  who  wander  around  here  have  their  habitations  else- 
where. Although  this  patch  of  ground  will  sprout  barley — 
and  they  have  taken  advantage  of  this  fact  to  sow  that 
grain — yet  they  live  a  little  farther  back." 

' '  I  have  never  yet  known  a  day's  sickness, "  said  Hugh, 
"  and  I  have  been  in  some  remarkably  unwholesome  places. 
Of  course,  it  would  be  a  grievous  sin  for  one  to  wantonly 
-sacrifice  his  own  health;  but,  as  this  part  of  Palestine  has 
received  less  attention  on  account  of  climate  and  surround- 
ings than  any  other,  I  feel  that  I  would  like  to  work  around 
here,  and  try  and  discover  that  which  has  been  so  long 
'hidden  from  mankind." 


THE  DEAD   SEA.  93 

"  I  fear,  my  dear  sir,  that  you  overrate  your  strength; 
nevertheless,  if  such  be  really  your  intention,  I  know  the 
Lieutenant  will  furnish  you  with  all  the  information  and 
assistance  in  his  power." 

By  this  time  the  officer  spoken  of  and  party  had  arrived, 
and,  after  an  introduction  and  presentation  of  letters,  the 
conversation  became  general. 

"  If  our  object,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  "  had  been  to  search 
for  ancient  monuments  and  curious  relics  of  antiquity,  then, 
truly,  our  expedition  would  have  been  a  failure.  In  this 
particular,  Palestine  has  always  failed  to  satisfy  the  ex- 
plorer. Unless  you  except,  indeed,  the  ruins  of  Jerusalem 
and  Hebron,  the  Synagogue  of  Lell  Huns,  and  others  about 
Galilee,  the  Head  of  Hadrian,  the  Vase  of  Bezetha,  and  the 
inscribed  stones  from  the  Temple,  all  of  which  have  been 
fully  described  by  former  explorers,  more  especially  M.  Cler- 
mont  Ganneau,  there  has  been  nothing  extraordinary  un- 
earthed in  this  country." 

"Do  you  find,  sir,  any  difficulty  in  locating  the  sites  of 
the  Biblical  places  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  None  whatever,"  answered  the  Lieutenant. 

"  And  to  what  cause  do  you  assign  the  scarcity  of  ancient 
relics?" 

"The  cause,  Mr.  Ashby,  is  very  simple.  This  country 
has  been  inhabited  all  the  while  by  a  race  speaking  the  same 
old  language,  and,  as  a  building  or  temple  falls  into  ruin, 
the  materials  have  been  used  to  build  others." 

"And  do  you  think,  sir,  there  is  nothing  more  to  be  found 
in  the  way  of  antiquities  in  this  country  ?" 

"There  is  nothing,  at  least  above  ground,  to  indicate  any- 
thing more;  but  perhaps  some  day  a  Cesnola,  or  a  Schlie- 
rnann,  may,  with  a  spade,  unearth  the  mystery." 

"But  your  work  so  far,"  inquired  Hugh,  "  has  it  been  of 
no  practical  utility  in  demonstrating  the  truth  of  Bible  his- 
tory ?" 

"Yes,  everything  confirms  it, "responded  the  Lieutenant, 
1 '  as  plainly  as  the  inscribed  tablets  found  in  Nineveh.  The 


'94  SACRIFICE. 

traditions,  also,  show  the  reality  of  events,  the  memory  of 
which  survives,  after  so  many  ages,  among  a  people  without 
education  or  letters,  to  whom  no  one  has  told  them  or  read 
them  out  of  a  book.'55'  The  Bedouins,  for  example,  have  a 
tradition  regarding  the  site  of  Jiljulien.  Over  coffee  and 
pipes,  when  the  day's  work  was  done,  it  was  related  to  us. 
I  will  give  it  to  you  as  near  as  possible  in  the  narrator's  own 
words:  'By  the  old  Tamerisk  once  stood  the  City  of  Brass, 
which  was  inhabited  by  Pagans.  When  Mohammed's  creed 
began  to  spread,  Aly,  his  son-in-law,  "the  lion  of  God," 
arrived  in  the  city  and  rode  seven  times  round  it  on  his 
horse,  Maimun.  The  brazen  walls  were  destroyed  by  his 
breath,  and  the  Pagans  fled,  pursued  by  the  Faithful  toward 
Kuruntul;  but  the  day  drew  to  a  close,  and  darkness  threat- 
ened to  shield  the  infidels.  Then  Aly,  standing  on  the  hill 
which  lies  due  east  of  the  Kuruntul  crag,  called  out  to  the 
sun,  "Come  back,  O  blessed  one!"  And  the  sun  returned 
in  heaven,  so  that,  ever  since,  the  hill  has  been  called  the 
"Bidge  of  Eeturn."  Such  is  the  legend;  in  it  we  see  mixed 
up  two  episodes  in  the  life  of  Joshua,  the  fall  of  Jericho,  and 
the  battle  of  Aigalon.'  ' 

"  Do  you  find  no  old  ruins  around  here  ?"  asked  Hugh. 

"  Oh  yes,"  said  the  Lieutenant,  "plenty  of  them,  but  most 
of  them  are  accredited  to  ages  no  more  remote  than  the 
Herodian  period.  The  most  interesting  we  have  examined 
are  the  ruins  of  Masada,  a  few  miles  to  the  south  of  this 
place.  Of  course,  you  have  read  the  vivid  description  by 
Josephus  of  its  defense  ?" 

" Costigan  and  some  other  travelers,"  said  Hugh,  "have 
thought  they  could  find  traces  of  Gomorrah  on  the  south- 
western shore  of  the  sea.  Do  your  observations  confirm  or 
•contradict  this  assumption  ?" 

"I  cannot  say,"  said  the  Lieutenant.  "  If  there  are  traces 
they  are  too  unreliable  for  us  to  work  at.  There  is,  I 
believe,  a  sort  of  tradition  among  the  natives  of  its  location 
there.  It  must  be  left  to  some  one  who  has  a  fancy  to  make 

*  British  Quarterly,  October,  1878. 


THE  DEAD   SEA.  95 

a  specialty  of  that  to  determine  whether  they  are  right.  We 
have  no  time  to  spend  on  uncertainties.  Our  work  is  to 
make  a  correct  map  of  Palestine,  which  we  shall  do.  But 
don't  you  know,"  continued  the  Lieutenant,  laughing,  "  I 
almost  fancied  that  we  had  found  Sodom  to-day  ?  We  were 
taking  soundings  just  north  of  Point  Costigan,  and,  when  we 
had  two  hundred  fathoms  of  water,  the  lead  brought  up  a 
piece  of  tile,  looking  new  and  clean.  I  then  played  around 
for  several  hours,  the  lead  seeming  sometimes  to  strike  ele- 
vations, which  I  fancied  might  be  house-tops,  and  then  again 
going  down  into  depressions,  which  might  have  been  the 
ground.  No  possible  diving  apparatus  could  be  made  to  go 
down  there,  or  I  would  not  have  left  till  I  had  settled  the 
question  to  my  entire  satisfaction." 

"There  can  be  no  doubt,  I  suppose,"  remarked  Hugh, 
"that  Sodom  is  near  to  the  sea?" 

"I  think  not,"  said  Mr.  Drake.  "The  formation  of  the 
country  shows  that  the  Valley  of  the  Jordan  once  extended 
clear  on  down  to  the  Red  Sea,  and  some  terrible  convulsion 
of  mother  earth  caused  the  valley  here  to  sink,  while  the 
country  about  the  south  end  of  the  sea  was  thrown  up. 
If  done  to  punish  the  wickedness  of  the  Sodomites,  the 
punishment  was  complete." 

"I  don't  know  about  that,"  said  Hugh.  "All  men  must 
die,  and  God  very  often  cuts  off  the  righteous  man  in  his 
prime.  Simply  to  kill  a  people,  would  be  only  the  punish- 
ment inflicted  on  all  mankind.  Are  not  these  people  cursed 
with  the  country?  For  does  not  a  visible  curse  hang  over  this 
spot  in  all  the  blackness  of  desolation,  and  is  not  all  this 
but  a  reflection  of  the  endless  sufferings  of  a  wicked  people 
from  the  inflexible  justice  of  an  outraged  God  ?" 

"That  is  something  about  which  I  had  not  thought," 
replied  Mr.  Drake.  "But,  it  is  true,  the  people  might 
easily  have  been  swept  from  the  face  of  the  earth,  without 
changing  the  beautiful  valley  into  a  place  bearing  every 
mark  of  the  curse  of  God.  In  simply  dying,  they  could  have 
learned  nothing  from  the  lesson." 


96  SACEIFICE. 

"How  do  we  know,"  interposed  the  Lieutenant,  "how 
many  lessons  the  children  of  Israel  received  by  the  mark 
God  left  upon  the  country  ?  It  may  have  changed  the  whole 
tenor  of  their  lives,  and  hence  of  the  whole  world;  for  no- 
people  have  had  more  to  do  with  moulding  the  destinies  of 
nations  than  the  descendants  of  Abraham.'' 

"The  reasons  of  the  special  acts  of  God,"  said  Hugh, 
"are  beyond  the  ken  of  man,  and  hence  it  may  never  be 
known  why  this  peculiar  mark  was  put  upon  this  place;  iDut 
there  is  one  thing  of  which  we  may  be  assured,  He  does 
nothing  without  a  purpose." 

The  conversation  continued  in  this  strain  until  supper  was 
announced,  when  all  who  were  well  enough  to  enjoy  it 
gathered  around  the  rough  camp  table  and  began  to  dis- 
patch the  edibles  with  a  will.  As  the  Lieutenant  looked 
around  at  the  invalids  of  his  camp,  he  remarked  aside  to 
Hugh: 

"  When  I  look  at  those  men  I  fully  appreciate  the  feelings 
of  Lieutenant  Lynch  when,  thinking  his  party  had  con- 
tracted the  disease  which  had  heretofore  .prostrated  all 
who  had  ventured  upon  this  infernal  coast,  he  wrote :  '  As  I 
looked  upon  my  companions  drooping  around  me,  many  and 
bitter  were  my  self-reproaches  for  having  ever  proposed  the 
undertaking ! ' '  . 

The  fountain  of  Ain  Jidy  has  been  ,noted  as  the 
"  Diamond  of  the  Desert."  There  are  two  fountains,  in  fact; 
one  high  up  the  mountain  side,  facing  the  sea,  and  almost 
inaccessible,  and  surrounded  by  a  grove  of  spina  christa; 
the  other,  some  distance  back  from  the  sea,  and  near  this 
last,  the  English  party  had  pitched  their  tents.  Hugh  saw 
nothing  attractive  about  it,  coming,  as  he  did,  directly  from 
a  habitable  country;  but,  in  visiting  it  afterwards,  with  face 
and  hands  encrusted  with  salt  and  tongue  parched  with 
thirst,  he  appreciated  the  description  given  by  Lieutenant 
Lynch  when  he  first  heard  the  sound  of  the  running  stream 
and  saw  the  cool  shadow  of  the  grove  inviting  him,  "through 
tamarisk,  oleander,  and  cane  to  the  very  Egeria  of  fountains. 


THE  DEAD   SEA.  97 

Far  in  among  the  cane,  embowered,  embedded,  hidden  deep 
in  the  shadow  of  the  purple  rocks  and  the  soft  green  gloom 
of  luxuriant  vegetation,  lapsing  with  a  gentle  murmur  from 
basin  to  basin,  over  the  rocks,  under  the  rocks,  by  the  rocks, 
and  clasping  the  rocks  in  its  crystal  arms,  was  this  little 
fountain-wonder.  The  thorny  nubk  and  the  pliant  asher 
were  on  the  bank  above;  yet  lower,  the  oleander  and  the 
tamerisk;  while  upon  its  brink  the  lofty  cane,  bent  by  the 
weight  of  its  fringe-like  tassels,  formed  bowers  over  the 
stream  fit  for  the  haunts  of  Naiads." 

Hugh  had  observed  that  in  the  side  of  the  cliff  there  were 
many  openings,  with  regular  door-ways,  which  gave  evi- 
dence of  their  having  been  inhabited  at  some  former  period 
by  man.  Some  of  these  had  undoubtedly  been  the  abode  of 
the  early  Christians,  and  of  the  crusaders;  but  might  there 
not  have  been  earlier  still  ?  Where  had  Daniel  dwelt  ? 


CHAPTER   XII. 


THE  RUINS  OF  MASADA. 

'AKLY  the  next  morning  Hugh,  taking  with  him  a 
trusty  Arab  to  bring  his  horse  back  to  camp  in  case 
he  should  conclude  to  be  gone  longer  than  a  day} 
started  out  to  visit  the  ruins  of  Masada.  There  was 
absolutely  no  road,  and  taking  his  way  along  the  bor- 
der of  the  sea,  now  over  beds  of  sharp,  broken  rocks  that 
had  rolled  down  from  the  cliffs  above,  and  now  along  the 
edge  of  some  deep  ravine,  with  scarcely  width  enough  for  a 
horse  to  pass,  Hugh  began  to  think  that  all  that  he  had 
heard  and  read  of  this  God-cursed  country  was  still  far  from 
the  reality.  By  six  o'clock  a  strong  north  wind  had  sprung 
up  which  seemed  impregnated  with  flames  of  the  infernal 
regions.  It  was  a  relief  to  shut  his  mouth  and  hold  his 
breath,  that  for  a  second  the  burning  air  might  be  excluded 
from  his  lungs.  Taking  his  handkerchief  from  his  pocket, 
he  tied  it  over  his  face,  leaving  only  apertures  for  his  eyes, 
and  pressed  on,  until  at  the  Wady  Segal,  a  deep  ravine  on 
the  north  side  of  the  mountain  or  cliff  on  which  Masada 
stands,  he  stopped  and  began  making  preparations  for 
ascending  the  ruined  fort.  Here  he  arranged  a  signal  with 
his  Arab  guide  by  which  he  was  to  tell  him  when  he  had 
reached  the  top,  and  whether  to  remain  or  to  go  to  camp. 
If  he  went  to  camp,  then  he  was  to  return  the  next  morning. 
Taking  with  him  a  small  repeating  rifle,  a  pick,  a  single 
blanket,  some  provisions,  and  a  flask  of  water,  our  adven- 
turer began  the  arduous  task  of  climbing  to  the  summit  of 
the  rock,  for  such  was  the  mountain  which,  as  Josephus, 
slightly  exaggerating,  said,  "was  so  high  that  the  eye  could 
not  reach  the  bottom  of  the  valley  below."  He  easily  recog- 
nized the  serpentine  path  spoken  of  by  the  same  historian. 
Following  its  winding  course — now  wide  enough  for  two  to 


THE  RUINS  OF  MASADA.  99 

walk  abreast,  then  forming  an  acute  angle  around  some 
sharp-pointed  rock,  with  a  footpath  scarce  wide  enough 
for  one  to  pass — he  often  found  himself  immediately  over 
the  spot  he  had  trodden  but  a  short  time  before,  and  only  a 
few  feet  higher.  At  the  beginning  of  the  ascent  Hugh  had 
slung  his  rifle  and  other  belongings  across  his  shoulder, 
that  he  might  have  the  free  use  of  his  hands  in  any  emer- 
gency; and  it  was  well  that  he  had  done  so,'  for  in  these 
steep  and  narrow  places  he  was  obliged  to  cling  to  the 
rocky  wall  with  his  hands,  as  he  cautiously  made  his  way 
along.  He  dared  not  look  around,  or  cast  his  eyes  on  the 
scene  below;  for,  extending  over  a  thousand  feet  beneath 
him,  yawned  a  vast  chasm,  and  one  misstep  would  have 
launched  him  into  certain  destruction.  Here  one  man  alone 
could  have  opposed  and  defeated  the  armies  of  Xerxes. 
Hugh  wondered  how  building  materials,  furniture  or  pro- 
visions could  have  been  taken  up  such  a  frightful  path.  Many 
lives  must  certainly  have  been  sacrificed  in  the  undertaking. 
At  length  he  reached  the  top,  fifteen  hundred  feet  above 
where  stood  the  Arab  and  his  horse.  The  air  was  cool  and 
refreshing,  and,  after  resting  himself  and  reconnoitering,  he 
concluded  to  spend  the  remainder  of  the  day  and  night  here, 
and  so  gave  the  return  signal  to  his  man,  who,  from  the  dis- 
tance, he  was  afraid  would  not  see  it  distinctly  enough  to 
understand  it.  By  the  aid  of  his  glass,  however,  he  saw 
that  the  Arab  had  both  seen  and  understood,  and  was  now 
turning  his  horses'  heads  in  the  direction  of  the  camp.  Now 
he  was  indeed  alone  within  the  fortress  of  Masada. 

The  top  of  this  mountain,  as  are  those  surrounding  it,  is  a 
perfect  level,  and  entirely  surrounded  by  the  ruins  of  a  wall, 
built  on  the  brink  of  a  precipice,  and  embraces  an  area  of 
about  three-fourths  of  a  mile  from  north  to  south,  by  one- 
fourth  of  a  mile  from  east  to  west.  The  wall  had  been 
thrown  down  in  places  on  the  north  side,  evidently  by  the 
projectiles  thrown  against  it  by  the  Roman  General  Silva 
from  the  opposite  heights,  when  he  besieged  this,  the  last 
fortress  of  Judea  to  succumb  to  the  conqueror.  Hugh  felt 


100  SACRIFICE. 

that  here  he  could  well  afford  to  spend  a  day.     There  were 
no  signs  of  its  having  been  recently  visited;  its  isolated 
position  and   the  difficulty  of  its  ascent  in  such  a  climate 
dissuading  even  explorers  from  often  attempting  the  perilous 
feat.     Sitting  upon   a  low,  broken   place   in   the   wall,  he 
watched  the  Arab  as  he  gradually  faded  from  view.     Turn- 
ing his  field-glass  from  point  to  point,  he  tried  to  examine 
the  country  around,  but  the  murkiness  of  the  atmosphere 
rendered  the  attempt  unsatisfactory,  as  even  the  mountains 
of  Moab,  on  the  opposite  shore,  presented   only  a  dim  out- 
line.    Replacing  his  glass   in  its  case,  he  next  turned  his 
attention  to  the  interior  of  the  ruin.     Here  the  soil  was  sev- 
eral feet  £hick,  generally  barren,  though  in   spots   a  rank 
vegetation  was  growing.    These  spots  Hugh  found   to  have 
been  cisterns,  cut  probably  by  Herod,  but  now  being  filled 
with  the  rubbish  of  their  own  ruined  walls,  and  the  decayed 
matter  of  centuries,  a  rich   soil   had   there  been  formed. 
Here  and  there  were  seen  oleander   and   tamarisk   bushes, 
some  of    which  were  dead,    and    others    still    green   and 
growing. 

As  he  approached  the  eastern  wall,  a  duck  flew  up  from 
among  the  weeds,  startled  by  this  strange  intruder  upon 
his  domain.  Eaising  his  rifle,  Hugh  fired,  rousing  the 
echoes  among  the  hills  around,  and  bringing  down  the 
duck.  Proceeding  a  little  farther,  he  found  a  pool  of  clear, 
fresh  water,  which  was  indeed  a  pleasant  surprise;  and  gath- 
ering some  dry  twigs,  he  made  a  fire  and  prepar  ed  his  din- 
Aer,  cleaning  and  cooking  his  duck  therefor. 

After  finishing  his  meal,  he  continued  his  explorations, 
and  found  several  excavations  cut  in  the  solid  rock  near  the 
edge  of  the  cliff  and  lighted  by  apertures  cut  in  the  face  of 
the  rocky  wall.  One  of  these  had  two  large  windows  facing 
the  sea,  and  from  thence  the  fearful  path  by  which  he 
ascended  could  be  observed.  This  room  was  larger  than 
the  others,  and  beautifully  stuccoed  with  pebbles,  and  as 
smooth  and  clean  as  though  just  made.  On  the  northern 
side,  he  discovered  an  apparently  inaccessible,  precipitous 


THE  RUINS  OF  MASADA.  101 


ledge  about  one  hundred  feet  below  the  summit  of  the  rock, 
the  ruins  of  a  round  tower.  After  closely  inspecting  the 
face  of  the  cliff,  Hugh  concluded  that  it  had  never  been 
approached  from  the  outside,  as  there  was  not  the  slightest 
trace  of  steps  down  to  it.  Here  was  a  problem  for  him  to 
solve,  and  he  was  determined  to  attempt  it.  As  it  was 
known  that  'Herod  had  rebuilt  Masada  for  a  place  of  refuge 
for  himself  in  certain  contingencies,*  Hugh  surmised  that 
he  had  also  provided  a  secret  interior  passage  down  to  this 
tower.  This  supposition  was  confirmed  by  the  discovery  of 
a  small  window  immediately  under  him,  but  without  any 
excavation  on  the  surface  to  correspond  with  it.  Several 
hundred  feet  to  the  west  he  saw  that  he  could,  with  great 
difficulty,  descend  the  face  of  the  cliff  for  twenty  or  thirty 
feet.  Following  this  perilous  track,  he  soon  came  upon  an 
extensive  shaft  or  ledge  encumbered  with  masses  of  rubbish 
and  masonry,  evidently  fallen  from  the  ruined  wall  which 
edged  the  cliff  above,  and  here  he  found  an  opening  which 
he  entered.  This  led  to  the  window  above  mentioned,  and 
looking  out  of  it  he  could  see  that  the  tower  was  still  far  be- 
low. Still  no  passage  was  to  be  seen.  With  his  pick  he 
began  sounding  the  walls  of  the  room,  and  then  the  floor. 
They  both  seemed  a  part  of  the  solid  rock,  but  still  Hugh  was 
not  discouraged.  He  felt  positive  that  there  was  some  hidden 
connection  with  the  tower,  and  he  was  determined  to  find  it. 
Again  sounding  the  floor  in  every  part,  he  finally  detected 
a  difference  in  one  spot.  Then  his  search  was  rewarded  by 
finding  a  seam  in  the  rock,  at  which  he  worked  for  more  than 
an  hour,  breaking  away  the  edge  of  the  stone,  when,  using 
his  pick  as  a  lever,  and  exerting  all  his  strength,  he  found  to 
his  delight  that  it  moved.  With  another  effort  he  raised  it 
entirely,  and  beheld  a  flight  of  stone  steps.  The  aperture  he 
had  just  made  was  not  more  than  two  fefet  square,  but  the 
stairway  through  the  rock  below  was  large  and  roomy,  allow- 
ing him  to  progress  rapidly  and  at  his  ease.  Occasionally  a 
small  orifice  cut  through  the  stony  wall  to  the  outside  per- 

*    Josephus— Wars  of  the  Jews,  Book  yii.,  chap.  viii. 


102  SACRIFICE. 


• 


mitted  the  light  of  day  to  stream  in,  and  thus  rendered  his 
descent  less  tedious.  At  the  bottom  of  these  stairs,  which 
extended  some  seventy  or  eighty  feet  downward,  Hugh  found 
himself  in  the  lower  ruin.  He  felt  that  he  was  the  first  man 
to  stand  within  that  place  since  the  days  of  Herod.  The 
Sicarii  had  not  remained  there  long,  and  the  fortress  had  been 
almost  abandoned  for  nearly  a  hundred  years  before  their  ob- 
taining possession  of  it.  This  tower  had  been  furnished  as  a 
palace  by  the  cautious  monarch,  and  as  such  Hugh  still 
found  it.  In  one  of  the  excavations  he  discovered  a  large 
number  of  earthen  vessels,  which,  on  opening,  he  found,  to 
his  great  astonishment,  to  be  filled  with  wine.* 

"Wine!"  he  exclaimed,  "wine  two  thousand  years  old! 
To  an  epicure,  one  drink  of  this  would  more  than  repay  the 
hazardous  journey  to  obtain  it." 

He  tasted,  and  a  new  life  and  energy  seemed  to  flow 
through  his  veins.  It  was  indeed  nectar  fit  for  the  gods,  and, 
taking  a  longer,  deeper  draught,  he  forgot  the  fatigue  of  the 
long,  laborious  day,  and,  with  renewed  vigor,  continued  his 
investigations.  In  this  room  there  was  also  a  large  quantity 
of  golden  and  silver  plate.  Hugh  looked  on  in  amazement, 
and  congratulated  himself  that,  after  all  these  ages  past,  he 
should  now  be  the  fortunate  one  to  unearth  all  this  treasure. 

' '  I  will  come  back  again, "  he  said,  ' '  and  take  these  valu- 
able things  one  by  one  away  so  as  to  excite  no  suspicion." 

The  sun  had  sunk  below  the  western  horizon,  and  the  full 
moon  was  rising  over  the  distant  mountains,  when  Hugh 
retraced  his  steps  up  the  stairway,  into  the  ruin  above,  care- 
fully replacing  the  stone  in  its  former  position,  and  thence 
up  the  treacherous,  broken  track,  to  the  summit  wall. 
Wandering  around  to  the  eastern  side  of  the  rock,  he  seated 
himself  in  a  broken  gap  in  the  wall,  and  looked  abroad  over 
the  moonlit  scene.*  Long  he  sat  in  contemplation,  painting 

*  Josephus,  speaking  of  the  siege  of  Masada,  says  that  when  the  Sicarii  got  posses- 
sion  of  this  fortress  they  found  stores  of  provisions  of  all  kinds,  among  other  things  fruits,, 
•which,  he  says,  "were  also  fresh  and  full  ripe,  and  no  way  inferior  to  such  fruits  newly  laid 
in,  although  a  little  short  of  one  hundred  years,  from  the  laying  in  of  these  provisions  (by 
Herod)  till  the  place  was  taken  by  the  Bomans."— Wars  of  the  Jews,  Book  vii. 
Pliny  also  mentions  the  keeping  of  stores  for  a  hundred  years. 


THE   KUINS   OF   MASADA.  103 

visions  for  himself  of  the  country  as  it  was,  new  from  the 
hand  of  God,  before  this  awful  blight  fell  upon  it.  Wrapped 
in  meditation,  he  had  little  thought  of  the  lapse  of  time, 
when  at  last  his  rocky  seat  becoming  tiresome,  he  arose,  in- 
tending to  seek  his  blanket,  and,  spreading  it  in  some  more 
convenient  place,  woo  the  embrace  of  the  drowsy  god.  As 
he  turned  around,  he  fancied  he  saw  the  shadow  of  a  man  in 
the  archway  at  the  entrance  of  the  fortress,  at  the  head  6f 
the  "serpent"  path.  About  half  the  length  of  the  shadow 
came  through  the  opening,  and  then  it  stopped.  The  person 
who  cast  it  had  evidently  just  reached  the  summit  by  that 
way,  and  seemed  to  hesitate  how  to  proceed.  Hugh,  gather- 
ing up  his  rifle,  drew  back  under  the  shadow  of  the  rock, 
and  awaited,  motionless  and  breathless,  the  movements  of 
the  mysterious  appearance. 

The  country  being  infested  with  bands  of  robbers,  Hugh 
conjectured  that  some  of  them,  watching  his  ascent  and  the 
departure  of  his  guide  and  horse,  might  have  followed  him 
with  the  intention  of  relieving  him  of  whatever  valuables  he 
might  have  about  him.  He  waited  in  silence  for  the  space 
of  perhaps  five  minutes,  when  the  shadow  again  moved  on, 
followed  by  the  figure  of  a  man  who  seemed  bent  with  age. 
Hugh  said  not  a  word  as  he  passed  within  a  few  feet  of  him. 
Then  the  figure  paused  again,  as  though  undecided  which 
way  to  proceed,  when,  after  waiting  a  few  seconds  longer, 
he  turned  squarely  around,  and  facing  our  hero,  moved  to- 
ward him,  when : 

"Stop!"  cried  Hugh,  in  Arabic,  "or  I  fire!" 

Unheeding  the  peremptory  command,  the  stranger  con- 
tinued to  advance  until  within  five  or  six  paces  from  where 
Hugh  stood  awaiting  him,  with  rifle  presented,  and  ready  to 
fire  at  any  sign  of  ill  intent. 

"Speak  then!"  again  cried  Hugh.  "Who  art  thou? 
What  dost  thou  want?" 

The  moon  was  shining  almost  as  brightly  as  day,  and  as 
the  apparition  approached  a  little  and  again  stopped,  Hugh 
began  to  feel  ashamed  of  any  apprehensions  he  might  have 


104 


SACRIFICE. 


felt,  for  now  he  discovered  that  the  figure  before  him  was 
really  that  of  a  very  old  man;  but  to  prevent  any  deception, 
Hugh  kept  his  eye  closely  upon  him,  and  though  lowering 
his  rifle,  he  took  in  his  right  hand  one  of  his  derringers,  say- 
ing to  himself,  "  I  am  as  quick  as  this  old  fellow  can  be,  and 
as  he  appears  empty-handed,  I  will  wait  until  he  makes 
some  motion." 

"  Has  the  sudden  appearance  of  an  old  man,"  at  length 
spoke  the  stranger,  "  so  paralyzed  with  fear  the  poor  young 
Frank,  that  he  cannot  raise  his  weapon  ?" 

"  Fear ! "  exclaimed  Hugh.  "Why,  old  man,  I  could  pick 
you  up  and  toss  you  over  the  wall  into  the  chasm  below,  did 
I  so  feel  inclined.  But  I  would  be  ashamed  to  shoot  at  an 
old  creature  like  you." 

' '  Thou  art  a  braggart,  sir  Frank,  and  hast  no  courage. 
Thou  flatterest  thyself  that  because  thou  canst  stay  alone  on 
this  deserted  height,  that  thou  art  brave;  but  didst  thou 
never  hear  how  the  valiant  Eleazer,  within  this  fortress,  and 
on  the  very  spot  upon  which  we  now  stand,  slew,  with  his 
own  hand,  first  his  mother,  then  the  mother  of  his  children, 
and  then,  one  by  one,  those  innocent  babes,  and  last  of  all 
himself — and  all  this  for  a  principle  ?  Aye,  and  the  deed 
was  so  bravely  done  that  hundreds  of  others  followed  his 
example,  and  the  Roman  General  found  no  slaves  in  Masada ! 
Thinkest  thou,  sir  Frank,  thou  couldst  have  done  that? 
Bah !  Thou  art  a  coward !" 

"  I  have  no  idea,"  responded  Hugh,  nettled  at  the  old 
man's  taunting  tone,  in  spite  of  himself,  ' '  what  I  should 
have  done  under  such  circumstances.  But  what  has  Eleazer 
and  his  Sicarii  to  do  with  you  and  me  here  to-night  ?  I  am 
here  peaceably  inclined,  and  you  come  along  in  a  garrulous 
mood,  and  will  insist  on  quarreling.  Now,  a  truce,  I  say,  to 
all  this  bantering.  We  are  up  here  all  alone,  so  let  us  talk 
like  friends.  I  am  willing  to  admit,  if  that  will  please  you, 
that  you  are  much  braver  than  I,  so  let  us  shake  hands 
and  be  friends." 


THE  BUINS  OF  MASADA.  105 

"Now  I  can  read  thy  very  thoughts,  young  man,"  said  the 
other.  "  Thou  art  flattering  thyself  that  thou  art  very  gen- 
erous; that  thou  hast  before  thee  an  old  man  whom  thou 
sayest  thou  couldst  toss  over  the  wall,  and  yet  thou  canst 
patronizingly  say,  '  let  us  be  friends.'  "Wait,  young  man,  till 
thou  art  required  to  prove  thy  bravery  and  generosity  by 
some  sacrifice,  and  then  we  will  see  how  the  account  stands. 
But  thou  hast  asked  for  my  hand — here  it  is." 

Kaising  his  hand  to  almost  a  level  with  his  head,  he  let  it 
fall  with  a  peculiar  heavy  motion  into  Hugh's,  outstretched 
to  grasp  it.  Involuntarily  Hugh  cast  it  from  him  with  a 
quick,  impulsive  gesture,  and  recoiled  in  horror,  for  the 
hand  was  that  of  the  dead — cold,  stiff  and  clammy  to  the 
touch.  A  mocking  laugh  broke  the  stillness  of  the  calm 
night  air,  and  the  old  man  continued : 

' '  And  is  it  thus  the  brave,  the  generous  Frank  shakes 
the  hand  he  hath  sought  in  friendship  ?  What  is  there  in 
the  mere  clasp  of  a  man's  hand  to  make  even  a  child  afraid? 
And  yet,  because  he  meets  one  away  out  in  this  lonely  place 
where  he  hath  flattered  himself  it  hath  shown  courage  to 
stay,  he  getteth  ill  at  ease,  and  shudders  at  shaking  hands 
with  a  braver  man  than  he !" 

Hugh  Ashby  had  ever  been  of  too  strong  a  mind  to  be  in- 
fluenced by  the  supernatural  stories  of  the  day,  and  when  he 
had  recovered  from  the  shock  which  the  touch  of  the  old 
man's  hand  had  occasioned  him,  memory  reminded  him  that 
the  dervishes  of  this  country  were  most  clever  with  their 
sleight-of-hand  tricks  and  juggling,  and,  thinking  he  beheld 
one,  he  said: 

"That  trick  was  very  well  done,  my  friend.  The  hand 
felt  exactly  like  that  of  a  dead  man,  and  did  give  me  a 
queer  sensation." 

"Well,  supposing  that  it  was  the  hand  of  a  dead  man, 
why  should  the  bold  Frank  shudder  ?  How  would  he  like  to 
lie  for  a  whole  year  amid  a  regiment  of  dead  men,  with  their 
slimy,  cold  hands  touching  his  face,  his  forehead,  and  every 
part  of  his  body,  their  wide  staring  eyes  peering  inco  his, 


106  SACRIFICE. 

and  their  ghastly  lips  kissing  his  mouth  ?     Dost  think  thou 
wouldst  shudder  at  that  ?  " 

"This  is  not  a  pleasant  subject  for  such  a  place,"  said 
Hugh.  "  Let  us  talk  of  something  else.  What  do  you 
know  of  the  mysteries  of  this  fortress?  Do  you  know  of 
any  other  ruins?  Those  of  Sodom  or  Gomorrah,  for  exam- 
ple. Come  now,  you  can  interest  me  if  you  will  only  talk 
like  a  reasonable  man,  and  I  will  reward  you  for  any  infor- 
mation you  may  give  me." 

"I  will  do  as  thou  wishest.  Do  thou  climb  upon  that 
wall,  young  man,  where  we  can  clearly  behold  the  surround- 
ing country,  and  I  will  follow  thee." 

Hugh  obeyed,  and  with  slight  effort  gained  the  top  of  the 
wall.  Looking  back,  he  saw  the  old  man  slowly  and  with 
apparent  difficulty  following.  "Canst  thou  not  give  me  a 
little  help  ?"  he  said,  as  he  saw  Hugh's  backward  glance,  at 
the  same  time  lifting  his  hand  with  the  same  peculiar  motion 
as  before.  Taking  hold  of  it,  the  same  horrible  sensation 
thrilled  through  Hugh,  with  the  same  almost  uncontrollable 
impulse  to  throw  it  from  him;  but  as  the  old  man  seemed  at 
this  moment  to  be  entirely  dependent  upon  his  aid,  he,  with 
a  strong  effort  of  his  will,  held  on.  When  at  last  the  old 
man  was  seated  near  him  on  the  summit  of  the  wall,  he 
began : 

"That  was  very  well  done.     If  the  young  Frank  would 
sleep  with  me  a  few  nights,  he  might  absorb  some  heroism.'* 
Hugh  shivered  at  the  suggestion,  but  made  no  reply.     The 
stranger  continued: 

"  Thou  wouldst  know  something  about  this  country?  And 
what  good  will  it  do  thee  when  thou  dost  know  ?  The  Frank 
is  very  proud  when  he  knows  something  which  no  one  else 
knows,  but  where  is  the  profit  he  derives  therefrom  ?  With 
all  his  knowledge,  he  has  not  been  able  to  increase  the  span 
of  his  life  one  day.  Yes — and  gold !  That's  what  he  wants. 
He  would  shorten  his  existence  a  score  of  years  for  one 
heap  of  gold  to  look  at  and  call  his  own.  Then  he  dies  and 
his  body  rots — and  the  devil  gets  his  soul." 


THE  KUINS  OF  MASADA.  107 

"  Come,  my  friend,"  said  Hugh,  "leave  out  all  your  moral- 
izing and  tell  me  something  about  the  country.  How  long 
have  you  been  hereabouts  ?  A  thousand  years,  eh  ?"  and 
Hugh  smiled  at  his  own  suggestion. 

'  'A  thousand  years, "  repeated  the  old  man,  slowly  and  em- 
phatically. "Thou  art  not  good  at  guessing,  young  man. 
But  of  this  country  thou  wouldst  know.  Dost  thou  see  the 
faint  outline  of  yonder  promontory,  spreading  out  its  two 
wings  like  a  huge  bird  floating  on  the  surface  of  the  sea  ? 
Just  north  of  the  further  point  stood  Sodom,  the  richest  city 
in  the  world,  and  therefore  the  most  corrupt.  The  Jordan 
washed  its  walls,  and  the  land  in  its  virgin  newness  yielded 
them  a  thousandfold.  But  they  got  too  rich  and  too  wise, 
and  now  they  are  suffering  the  consequences.  Whenever  a 
generation  acquires  too  much  wealth  and  too  much  knowl- 
edge, it  is  bound  to  suffer,  for  are  they  not  but  adding  fuel 
to  the  flames  which  will  destroy  them?  There  is  gold  in 
Sodom,  such  as  no  man  hath  beheld  for  thousands  of  years. 
Thou  canst  not  get  that;  but  if  thou  wilt  take  thy  station  on 
yon  northern  point,  just  two  months  and  a  day  from  this 
night,  thou  wilt  see  the  whole  surface  of  the  water  illumined 
by  a  most  brilliant  light.  Perhaps  some  of  the  mysteries  of 
its  depths  may  be  reflected  therein — and  it  may  be  more. 
Now,  turn  thy  head  down  the  coast  in  this  direction;"  and 
with  his  long  bony  finger  he  pointed  towards  Usdum. 
"  There  thou  wilt  find  two  ravines.  The  first  is  called  Wady 
ez  Zuweirah,  and  the  second  the  Wady  Mubughghik.  Be- 
tween these  lie  buried  the  rich  city  of  Gomorrah.  Some 
traces  of  its  ruins  may  be  found  in  the  last  named  of  these 
Wadys,  and  a  tunnel  from  there  in  the  direction  of  the  other 
ravine  would  go  through  the  heart  of  Gomorrah.  And  gold! 
There  is  enough  to  satisfy  the  cravings  of  the  most  enlight- 
ened Frank!  But  not  enough  to  buy  him  one  minute  of 
life." 

"  How  does  the  tradition  come  which  so  exactly  locates 
these  two  cities  ?  "  inquired  Hugh. 


108  SACRIFICE. 

"Thou  didst  ask  me  for  information.  I  gave  it  without 
compulsion,  and  now  thou  wouldst  cross-question  me ,  to  see 
if  I  have  been  lying." 

"  How  am  I  to  know  that  you  are  not  mistaken?"  replied 
Hugh.  "If  generation  after  generation  have  known  that  so 
much  gold  was  buried  under  that  mountain,  why  have  not 
some  of  them  sought  for  it  before  now  ?" 

"The  knowledge  of  its  existence  might  have  been  confided 
to  the  wise  only — to  those  who  know  that  gold  is  a  curse  and 
not  a  blessing." 

"And  it  is  very  improbable,  my  friend,  that  such  people 
should  live  and  have  a  continuous  succession  for  so  many 


"I  know,  for  example,"  continued  the  old  man,  "that 
gold  in  great  abundance  exists  in  these  very  ruins,  and  that, 
too,  where  no  great  amount  of  work  would  be  required  to 
obtain  it.  That  knowledge  came  to  me  the  same  as  did  that 
of  Sodom  and  Gomorrah." 

"  Could  you  show  me  that  gold  ?"  inquired  Hugh. 

"I  could.  Couldst  thou  reach  the  tower  of  the  north 
side  of  this  ruin  thou  wouldst  have  thy  desire  gratified." 

"Pshaw!"  exclaimed  Hugh,  "that  is  the  merest  guess." 

"  Guess,  young  man  ?    I  never  guess." 

"Well,  tell  me,  is  there  anything  else  in  the  tower  besides 
the  gold?  Tell  me,  what  there  is  there  and  how  it  is 
arranged,  and  I  will  find  a  path  to  it." 

"Hast  thou  not  already  been  there  to-day,  young  man  ?" 

"  Answer  my  question  first,  and  then  I  will  answer  yours." 

"There  is  wine  there,  young  man;  wine  two  thousand 
years  old  !  But,  hist!  Hearest  thou  not  a  footstep  ?" 

They  sat  in  breathless  silence  a  few  moments,  Hugh  listen- 
ing intently,  and  the  old  man  appearing  to  do  the  same. 

' '  I  hear  nothing,"  remarked  Hugh. 

"  Sayest  thou  so',?  Mine  old  ears  have  surely  not  deceived 
me.  I  will  see;"  and  noiselessly  and  slowly  he  descended 
from  the  wall  and  disappeared  in  the  gloom. 


THE  BUINS  OF  MASADA.  109 

"A  strange  old  chap,"  remarked  Hugh  to  himself,  as  he 
watched  the  aged,  bent  figure  with  curiosity.  "I  wonder 
whom  he  fears  to  meet." 

After  patiently  waiting  a  few  moments  for  his  queer  com- 
panion's return,  Hugh  began  to  think  of  descending  himself, 
when  he  once  more  saw  him,  as  he  thought,  entering  the 
archway.  Noiselessly  he  came  as  at  first,  and  after  proceed- 
ing a  short  distance  into  the  enclosure  he  paused.  Suddenly 
a  familiar  voice  echoed  throughout  the  ruin,  which  made  our 
hero  start  in  amazement  to  his  feet. 

"  Meester  Ashby !    Meester  Ashby!"  it  called. 

"Isaac,  by  all  that  is  holy!"  exclaimed  Hugh,  hastily 
scrambling  down  the  wall,  and  running  to  meet  him.  But 
when  within  a  few  steps  of  him  he  stopped  short,  struck  with 
a  resemblance  which,  caused  no  doubt  by  the  tricky  lights 
and  shadows  of  the  moon,  Isaac,  for  it  was  none  other  than 
he,  bore  to  his  quondam  companion  on  the  wall.  The  little 
old  Jew  ran  up  to  him,  and  clasping  both  his  hands  in  his 
own,  pressed  his  lips  upon  them. 

"What  on  earth,"  exclaimed  Hugh,  "brought  you  up 
here  at  this  unseemly  hour !" 

"  You  did,  Meester  Ashby.     You  did." 

"How  did  I  bring  you  up  here  ?"  inquired  Hugh  in  utter 
astonishment. 

"  Veil,  I  vill  dells  you.  You  sees  I  comes  to  de  camp  of 
de  Englishmans,  an'  dey  dells  me  dat  you  vas  on  top  of 
Masada — dat  de  Arab  cooms  back  an'  leaves  you  dere  for  all 
de  night.  Now  dere  ish  von  story — von  tradition  about  de 
beeples  up  here.  It  vas,  dat  de  Sicarii  bees  not  at  rest  yet, 
for  de  crime  of  killing  all  de  vomens  and  schildrens,  and  dat 
if  any  mans  cooms  up  here  all  by  hisself,  an'  stay  de  night, 
dey  haf. power,  when  de  hour  of  midnight  cooni,  takes  him 
avay,  an'  make  him  von  of  demselves.  Now  dey  hav  dis 
power  over  von  mans,  but  if  dere  bees  two  togedder,  dey 
can  not  hurt  eider  of  dem.  I  gets  two  Arab  to  coom  wid  me 
to  de  foot  of  de  mountain,  and  den  I  climbs  up  all  alone,  so 


110  SACBIFICE. 

as  to  make  de  odder  man.     Now  you  see   dat  ish  von  very 
short,  and  very  simple  story." 

Hugh  laughed  heartily,  and  I^aac  continued:  "  Dere  ish 
nodings  vat  to  laugh  at,  Meester  Ashby.  How  you  likes  to 
bees  von  Sicarii,  Meester  Ashby,  an'  you  bees  von  sure,  if 
I  no  cooms." 

" Isaac,"  said  Hugh,  "if  you  were  given  to  practical 
jokes,  I  would  believe  it  was  you  who  was  here  with  me  a 
few  moments  ago.  An  ancient  party  came  up  a  while  ago, 
and  thought  to  frighten  me,  but  on  hearing  your  footsteps, 
he  himself  got  scared  and  ran  off." 

"  Dat  vas  von  Sicarii,  sure,  Meester  Ashby.  At  twelve 
o'clock  he  hafe  you,  certain,  if  I  no  coom." 

"Nevertheless,  Isaac,  he  looked  like  you,  only  he  appeared 
older  still,  and  more  feeble." 

' '  Like  me !  Look  like  me !  Oh  mine  Got !  You  ask  dem 
at  de  camp,  when  I  leaves  dem,  an'  dey  vill  dells  you  about 
sundown  I  comes  mit  two  Arab,  an'  I  leaves  dem  about  von 
hour  ago — you  ask  dena^too.  Den  I  climbs  de  mountain  in 
about  von  hour — dat  vas  very  quick  for  me,  Meester  Ashby, 
but  mine  ole  legs  travels  very  fast  dis  time,  for  I  want  to 
save  you  from  de  Sicarii." 

"  Then  the  other  party  came  to  me  about  the  time  you 
left  your  Arabs,  and,  as  I  know  you  to  be  of  flesh  and 
blood,  and  incapable  of  surmounting  the  difficulties  of  the 
serpentine  path  in  a  spiritual  sort  of  a  way,  I  will  consider 
that  you  have  proved  an  alibi,  especially  as  he  went  off  in  an 
opposite  direction  to  the  one  in  which  you  came.  And, 
Isaac,  he  had  such  a  hand — ugh! — a  dead  hand.  It  makes 
me  shudder  to  even  think  of  it." 

"  Vat  did  he  talk  about  ?  "  asked  Isaac. 

"  Oh,  a  great  many  things.  He  pointed  out  to  me  where 
Sodom  was  buried  under  the  waters  of  the  sea.  He  told  me 
where  to  excavate  and  find  the  ruins  of  Gomorrah.  He  also 
said  that  both  places  were  full  of  gold,  and  he  was  on  the 
point  of  showing  me  some  hidden  treasure  in  this  place 
when  you  came." 


SACRIFICE.  Ill 

"Down  in  de  round  tower   below?"  interrupted  Isaac, 
questioningly. 

"Yes,  down  there.     But  what  do  you  know  about  it?  " 

"I  knows  de  story.  If  dey  gets  von  down  dere,  he  ba 
gone,  sure.  Every  von  afraid  to  go  down  dere." 

"Then  I  have  proven  the  falsity  of  that  superstition  for 
you,  because  I  was  down  there  myself  to-day." 

Old  Isaac  seemed  for  a  moment  to  be  almost  dumb- 
founded with  astonishment,  and  then  exclaimed : 

' '  Mine  Got !    You  vas  down  dere  ?  " 

"Yes,  and  drank  some  of  old  Herod's  wine.  What  do 
you  think  of  that,  Isaac  ? " 

"Vine !    Ish  dere  vine  down  dere ?  " 

' '  Yes,  there  is  wine  there,  and  plenty  of  it.  But  I  am 
tired  and  getting  sleepy.  Let  us  find  a  good  place  to  camp, 
and  in  the  morning  I  will  tell  you  more.  I  will  also  want  to 
know  something  of  yourself  since  we  parted.  We  must 
have  a  good  long  talk." 


CHAPTER  XIII. 

THE  CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA. 

atmosphere  on  this  mountain  top  being  so  much 
purer  than  that  on  the  borders  of  the  sea,  Hugh 
slept  soundly  until  the  hot  rays  of  the  morning's  sun 
shining  into  his  face  awakened  him.  Eaising  him- 
self to  his  elbow,  he  saw  the  old  Jew  still  slumber- 
ing beside  him.  Arising,  yawning  and  stretching  his  limbs, 
he  went  to  the  little  pool  of  fresh  water  to  make  his  morning 
ablutions.  A  few  moments  sufficed  for  his  toilet,  and  he 
turned  his  attention  to  preparing  breakfast  for  the  two  out 
of  the  scanty  supply  of  provisions  he  had  brought  with  him 
the  day  before.  By  this  time  Isaac  was  awake,  and  Hugh 
proposed  that  they  go  down  together  to  the  tower  and  get 
some  of  ' '  Herod's  "  wine  to  wash  down  their  breakfast,  and 
also  to  fill  a  flask  for  the  English  officers.  Isaac  refused  to 
go,  and  Hugh  laughing  at  his  fears,  started  alone  on  his  ex- 
pedition to  the  lower  ruin. 

He  soon  returned  without  further  adventure  and  with  a 
couple  of  flasks  filled  with  the  wine.  After  partaking  of  their 
breakfast  they  pnce  more  took  themselves  down  the  "  Ser- 
pent "  path  towards  the  borders  of  the  sea.  The  Arab  guide 
was  awaiting  them  with  Hugh's  horse,  and  also  one  for 
Isaac,  and  by  ten  o'clock  they  were  in  the  English  camp.  It 
was  noisy  with  the  hum  and  bustle  of  departure;  for  so  many 
of  their  men  being  sick,  the  Lieutenant  had  determined  to 
change  their  quarters. 

"  I  have  in  my  travels,"  said  Hugh,  "  procured  some  wine, 
said  to  be  two  thousand  years  old.  Will  you  sample  it  ?  " 

Each  of  the  men  drank  and  declared  that  if  they  only  had 
enough  of  that  beverage,  they  could  remain  forever  on  the 
shore  of  the  Dead  Sea. 


THE   CONVENT   OF   MAB  SABA.  113 

"  And  do  you  really  intend  remaining  here  alone?" 
inquired  the  Lieutenant  of  Hugh. 

"I  most  certainly  do,"  replied  he.  "I  will  stay  a  month 
or  so,  at  any  rate;  and  longer  if  my  health  does  not  begin  to 
fail.  I  am  becoming  very  much  interested  in  some  of  the 
objects  around  here.  I  expect  to  visit  Masada  often.  I 
shall  need  some  boats,  Lieutenant;  and  as  you  are  going  to 
leave,  would  like  to  purchase  yours." 

"I  was  just  going  to  mention  that,"  said  that  officer. 
"We  shall  not  need  them  again,  and  I  shall  be  most  happy 
to  loan  them  to  you.  The  small  one  you  can  row  yourself, 
and  the  large  one  can  easily  be  managed,  with  a  fair  wind, 
by  one  man;  though  I  would  advise  you  not  to  venture  out 
far  from  the  shore  or  from  camp  with  it  alone,  because  the 
wind  can  drop  here  as  quickly  as  it  can  rise." 

"I  am  a  pretty  fair  sailor,"  said  Hugh,  "  and  I  can  man- 
age to  get  along.  As  the  Society,  under  whose  auspices  you 
are  at  work,  is  maintained  by  voluntary  contributions,  I 
shall  take  the  occasion  to  subscribe  to  the  funds  at  least  the 
cost  of  the  boats." 

"As  you  like,  sir,"  responded  the  Lieutenant. 

"  Did  that  old  Jew  have  a  bond  of  you  for  the  pound  of 
flesh?"  inquired  Mr.  Drake.  "He  was  in  a  terrible  flurry 
when  I  told  him  where  you  had  gone,  and  he  at  once  hired 
a  couple  of  Arabs  who  were  lounging  around  to  take  him  to 
the  foot  of  the  mountain.  He  said  he  must  see  you  as  soon 
as  possible." 

"  He  is  an  eccentric  old  friend  of  mine,  and  has  a  tradition 
in  which  the  adventurous  mortal  who  remains  alone  in  the 
ruins  of  Masada  at  midnight  is  subject  to  the  spells  of  the 
spectral  Sicarii,  so  he  hastened  up  there  to  save  me  by  his 
presence.  Ha!  ha!  ha!  But  what  time  did  he  leave  here?" 

"About  sun-down.     And  he  got  thereat  what  time?" 

"He  got  there  in  less  time  than  I  did,  and  I  thought  I 
went  at  a  pretty  good  gait,  both  while  on  horseback  and 
while  on  foot."  And  Hugh  thought  to  himself.  "Then  it 
is  certain  that  Isaac  could  have  had  no  connection  with  the 


114  SACEIFICE. 

queer  old  party  I  met.  Perhaps  I  shall  meet  him  again." 
Suddenly  there  flashed  upon  his  mind  the  remembrance  of 
the  Jew's  parting  words  at  Hillah:  "  We  shall  meet  again  at 
a  time  and  place  you  little  think."  "  Was  it  possible,"  said 
Hugh  to  himself,  "that he  could  have  foreseen — but,  pshaw! 
what .  nonsense  to  imagine  such  a  thing!  lam  getting  as 
superstitious  as  he  is."  He  continued  his  conversation  with 
Mr.  Drake  for  some  time  longer,  when  they  separated,  with 
many  good  wishes  between  them. 

v  The  Englishmen's  effects  were  soon  packed  up,  and  they 
slowly  wended  their  way  toward  Bethlehem.  Hugh's  eyes 
followed  them  out  of  sight,  and  then  he  turned  to  survey  his 
surroundings.  There  were  a  half  dozen  Arabs  sitting  around 
willing  to  do  any  small  amount  of  service  for  a  large  reward, 
and  who  now  expected  to  have  simply  changed  masters. 
Among  them,  but  not  of  them,  sat  a  man  who,  by  his  dress 
and  general  appearance,  Hugh  knew  to  be  a  monk,  belong- 
ing, perhaps,  to  some  order  in  the  neighborhood.  On  ques- 
tioning him,  he  learned  that  he  was  a  member  of  the  com- 
munity inhabiting  the  Greek  Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  some  five 
or  six  miles  back  from  the  sea,  and  about  twelve  miles  to 
the  north. 

11 1  expect,"  said  Hugh  to  him,  "to  spend  some  months 
in  making  explorations  around  here,  and  I  should  like  a 
headquarters — some  place  where  I  can  leave  my  effects,  now 
at  Bethlehem,  and  it  strikes  me  that  your  convent  would 
be  a  good  home  for  a  lone  wanderer.  Could  I  be  accommo- 
dated there?" 

"I  am  under  orders,"  replied  the  monk,  "and  can  do 
nothing  of  my  own  will;  but  if  the  gentleman  desires  such  a 
thing,  it  is  at  least  worth  the  trouble  of  going  to  see  our 
Reverend  Superior  about." 

"  How  are  you  here  ?     Have  you  a  horse  ?  " 

"No;  I  am  on  foot." 

"And  you  are  looking  sick,  too,"  said  Hugh.  "I  will 
send  my  horse  around  by  one  of  these  Arabs  and  take  you 


THE  CONVENT  OF  MAR  SABA.  115 

myself  in  the  boat  to  the  Wady-en-Nar,  and  from  there  we 
will  manage  to  get  along  some  way." 

The  tired  and  worn-out  monk  gladly  assented  to  this,  and 
Hugh  left  him  to  make  arrangements  accordingly. 

"You  will  go  with  us,  of  course,  Isaac,"  said  he  to  the  old 
Jew,  who  still  remained  on  the  scene. 

"No,  I  has  some  beesness  out  de  odder  vay.  I  sees  you 
again,  if  you  stays  'round  here." 

Hugh  turned  to  the  Arabs  loitering  around  and  told  them 
they  might  consider  themselves  in  his  employ,  and  for  them 
to  remain  there  and  keep  watch  over  the  large  boat  until  his 
return.  He  then,  accompanied  by  the  sick  monk,  proceeded 
down  to  the  shore.  There  was  a  fair  breeze  blowing;  but  as 
it  was  almost  directly  from  the  north,  he  concluded  to  use 
the  oars  as  well  as  the  sails.  By  the  time  they  had  reached 
a  point  within  three  or  four  miles  of  their  destination,  the 
wind  began  blowing  hard,  and  they  made  but  little  headway. 
It  was  a  hot,  parching  wind,  and  as  the  spray  would  strike 
them  a  white  incrustation  of  salt  would  be  left  on  face,  hands 
and  clothes,  as  soon  as  the  water  evaporated,  which  was 
almost  immediately.  The  smarting  sensation  was  intolera- 
ble, while  the  intense  heat  was  almost  overpowering.  Hugh 
was  a  strong  man  and  never  knew  the  word  fail,  and  struggled 
on.  The  poor  monk  was  pale  as  death,  but  said  never  a 
word. 

At  length,  however,  they  arrived  at  the  Wady-en-Nar,  and 
found  the  Arab  patiently  awaiting  with  the  horse.  Hugh 
got  out,  and  pulled  the  boat  ashore;  but,  when  the  monk 
attempted  to  rise  from  his  seat,  he  fell  back  in  an  almost 
swooning  condition.  Jumping  into  the  boat,  Hugh  lifted 
him  in  his  arms  and  carried  him  to  the  shore.  Taking  from 
his  pocket  the  flask  of  "Herod's"  wine,  which  he  now  re- 
membered for  the  first  time,  he  placed  it  to  the  lips  of  the 
fainting  monk.  The  Arab  ran  off  and  soon  returned  with 
fresh  water  from  some  spring  in  the  ravine,  of  which  he  had 
known  before.  They  washed  the  salt  from  the  monk's  face 
and  hands,  and  he  revived  and  sat  up.  Hugh  asked  him  if 


116  SACRIFICE. 

he  thought  he  could  ride,  to  which  he  faintly  answered,    he 
would  try.     Placing  him  upon  the  horse's  back,  Hugh  walked 
beside  to  support  him,  that  he  might  not  fall,  while  the  Arab 
led  the  animal  along.     Thus  they  reached  the  Convent   of 
Mar  Saba.     The  sick  monk  was  carried  in  and  cared  for  by 
his  brothers,  and  Hugh  received  a  most  cordial  welcome. 
He  was  completely  exhausted  with  the  labors  of  the   day, 
which  had  proved  too  much,  in  that  climate,  for  even  his 
strong  constitution.     He  was  shown  to  a  room,  where,  after 
taking  a  cool,  refreshing  bath  and  eating  a  collation  which 
the  kind  monks  sent  in  to  him,  he  lay  down  upon  a  bed  and 
slept.     It  was  sunset  when  he  fell  asleep,  and  he  did  not 
awaken  until  the  loud  pealing  and  reverberating  echoes  of 
the  Angelusbell  rang  out  on  the  morning  air,  calling  all  who 
believe  in  the  atoning  blood  of  the  Lamb  to  begin  the    day 
with  prayer.     In  that  desolate  country,  with  naught  around 
but  cliffs  and  chasms  of  solid  rock,  that  solitary  bell  seemed 
to  have  been  multiplied  into  a  hundred,  each  with  a  different 
tone,  announcing,  even  in  that  accursed  country,  the  glad 
tidings  of  man's  redemption.     Hugh  arose,    answered  the 
invitation  to  prayer,  and  strolled  out  into  the  open  air  just 
as  the  first  rosy  streaks  of  the  morning  came  streaming  up 
the  chasm  from  the  direction  of  the  sea.     Seating  himself 
upon  a  prominence  on  the  opposite  side  of  the  ravine  from 
the  convent,  he  remained  buried  in  contemplation   as  ray 
after  ray  from  the  yet  hidden  face  of  the  God  of  Day  revealed 
one  by  one  the  features  of  the  landscape.     The  bottom  of 
the  ravine  was  more  than  a  thousand  feet  above  the  level  of 
the  sea,  and  the  cliffs  arose  on  either  side  of  him  more  than 
four  hundred  feet  high.     The  convent  itself  was  a  singular 
structure.     Its  walls  of  solid  masonry  spanning  the  ravine 
and  standing  against  the  face  of  the  cliff,  had,  generation 
after  generation,    climbed  along  up  it  until,  in  excavation 
and  masonry,  it  had  reached  the  very  top.     No  wood  what- 
ever was   used  in  the  exterior   construction,    and  but  very 
little  in  the  interior.     Hugh's  reverie   was  broken   by   the 
summons  to  breakfast,  which  he  obeyed  without  delay,  and 


THE  CONVENT  OF  MAE  SABA.  117 

entered  the  refectory  where  the  community  were  congre- 
gated. Some  twenty  monks  were  gathered  around  the  table, 
which  was  bare  of  any  cloth,  and  contained  only  a  few  spare 
dishes  of  vegetables  and  bread,  with  no  more  palatable  drink 
than  cold  water  to  accompany  them.  At  one  place,  however, 
a  clean,  white  napkin  had  been  spread,  and  on  this  was  a 
savory  dish  of  meat,  with  some  nice  biscuit  and  fresh  butter 
and  honey,  together  with  a  small  pot  of  steaming,  hot  coffee. 
This  was  for  Hugh. 

The  members  of  the  brotherhood  were  of  many  national- 
ities, principally,  however,  of  Russian  and  Greek.  The 
Superior  was  a  Russian,  and,  of  course,  they  all  acknowl- 
edged the  Emperor  of  Russia  as  the  head  of  the  Church. 
Hugh  wondered  how  it  was  that  citizens  of  that  country  could 
abide  so  unconcernedly  in  the  midst  of  the  Ottoman  Empire, 
when  such  terrible  enmity  existed  between  the  two  nations; 
and  he  asked  the  Superior  if  he  felt  no  apprehensions  on  that 
account. 

.  "  None  in  the  least,"  was  the  reply.  ' 'The  Sultan  will  not 
disturb  any  one  in  the  empire  who  attends  only  to  his  own 
business,  and  who  he  knows  will  do  nothing  against  him." 

"And  have  you  no  difficulty  about  the  observance  of  your 
religion,  acknowledging,  as  you  do,  the  supremacy  of  the 
Russian  Emperor  ?" 

"We  have  no  more  fear  on  that  score,"  he  replied,  "  than 
we  would  have  in  your  own  America,  famed  for  its  toleration 
of  every  creed.  In  fact,  the  Turkish  Government  is  fully  as 
tolerant  in  matters  of  religion  as  any  in  Europe.  You  in- 
formed me,  I  believe,  that  you  had  visited  the  Catholic 
orphanage  at  Bethlehem,  over  which  the  Rev.  A.  Belloni 
presides?  Well,  you  saw  there  a  number  of  children  of 
Mohammedan  parentage  being  cared  for  and  taught  the 
Christian  religion.45'  Suppose  some  Turks  were  to  go  over 
to  your  country,  which  is  said  to  be  the  best  and  most 
tolerant  on  earth,  and,  establishing  an  orphanage,  go  about 

*  See  reports  of  the  Rev.  A.  Belloni,  Director  of  the  Mission  of  the  Holy  Family;  and  then 
read  debates  in  the  California  Constitutional  Convection,  February  4th,  1879. 


118  SACKIFICE. 

gathering  up  Christian  children  in  order  to  teach  them  the 
Mohammedan  doctrine.  What  would  your  people  say?  In 
fact,  I  have  read  somewhere  that  even  there,  quite  an  in" 
tolerant  disposition  is  sometimes  manifested,  and  have  been 
told  that  the  great  diversity  of  opinion  is  all  that  prevents 
an  outbreak  of  it.  You  know,  perhaps,  that  this  is  not  true; 
but  you  see  distance  will  add  to  slander." 

"  I  have  found,"  said  Hugh,  "both  at  home  and  elsewhere, 
that  intolerance  springs  from  ignorance,  generally  wilful 
ignorance.  One  may  be  well  versed  in  the  arts  and  sciences, 
and  yet  know  nothing  of  the  character  of  his  neighbor,  and 
through  the  same  want  of  knowledge  misjudge  him.  The 
average  churchman  will  read  only  his  own  side  of  a  contro- 
versy— the  other  side  is  not  pleasant — and,  knowing  this,  each 
disputant  feels  at  liberty  to  assert  the  most  outrageous  false- 
hoods as  facts,  so  that  he  who  reads  is  worse  than  ignorant. 
In  my  country,  where  every  one  is  privileged  to  publish 
whatever  he.  chooses,  this  kind  of  ignorance  is  alarmingly 
prevalent,  and  leads  to  the  report  you  have  alluded  to.  Not 
only  is  this  the  case  in  religion,  but  the  same  spirit  is 
carried  into  politics.  When  I  tell  you  that  there  are  well- 
informed  men  who  have  worked  themselves  into  the  belief 
that  every  man  of  the  opposite  party  is  not  only  a  thief  and 
a  scoundrel,  but  also  an  enemy  to  the  Government,  and  de- 
sires its  destruction,  you  will  think,  perhaps,  that  I  am 
exaggerating." 

The  conversation  continued  in  this  strain  for  some  minutes 
longer,  when  Hugh,  broaching  the  object  of  his  visit,  said : 

"  I  have  determined  on  making  some  exploration  on  my 
own  account  around  this  sea,  and  shall  probably  remain  for 
a  month,  and  perhaps  longer.  Now,  I  would  like  to  bring 
my  baggage,  letters,  moneys,  etc.,  here,  and,  while  I  shall 
try  not  to  give  much  trouble,  make  this  place  my  head- 
quarters— a  place  that  I  may  call  home." 

"You  are  welcome,"  said  the  Superior,  "and  we  will  do 
all  we  can  to  make  you  comfortable  while  you  remain  with 


THE   CONVENT  OF  MAE  SABA.  119 

us.  Where  do  you  propose  to  commence  your  investiga- 
tions ?" 

"I  am  not  yet  certain/'  replied  Hugh,  "but  think  I  shall 
examine  first  a  point  just  this  side  of  Usdum,  where,  I 
believe,  a  tradition  places  the  city  of  Gomorrah." 

"Then  I  will  have  to  introduce  you  to  Father  Dominic, 
for  he  has  always  insisted  that  Gomorrah  was  near  Wady 
Mubughghik.  He  has  a  very  curious  old  manuscript,  which 
took  him  several  months  to  decipher,  and,  from  that  source 
alone,  he  will  have  it  that  Gomorrah  is  just  where  you  locate 
it.  Excavations,  as  you  may  see,  are  entirely  out  of  our 
line,  except  in  a  very  quiet  way,  to  seek  for  information. 
We  have  no  permit  from  the  Government  for  any  extended 
work,  which,  I  suppose,  of  course,  you  have." 

At  this  Hugh  showed  him  the  Sultan's  letter,  which  had 
been  mentioned  before.  The  Superior  then  continued: 

"  Father  Dominic  can,  I  think,  be  of  service  to  you,  and 
should  you  desire  it,  he  shall  have  permission  to  visit  the 
spot  in  your  company." 

Hugh  was  well  pleased  with  the  suggestions  of  the  Rev. 
Superior,  and  he  was  also  surprised  to  find  the  story  of  the 
old  man  of  Masada  confirmed.  That  episode  had  almost 
assumed  in  his  mind  the  appearance  of  a  dream,  but  never- 
theless he  now  determined  on  making  a  little  examination  of 
the  place  at  any  rate.  He  began  to  feel  anxious  to  begin, 
and  wished  an  immediate  introduction  to  this  Father  Domi- 
nic, that  he  might  get  a  peep  at  his  wonderful  old  manu- 
script. However  he  was  obliged  to  wait  awhile,  for  the  old 
Father  was  out  somewhere  prowling  around  the  rocks,  so 
Hugh  busied  himself  with  preparations  for  getting  his  bag- 
gage from  Bethletfem  to  the  Convent.  He  found  he  would 
have  to  return  in  person  to  the  former  place  and  attend  to 
the  transportation  of  his  own  baggage.  This  required  two 
days'  time,  through  which  it  is  not  now  necessary  to  fol- 
low him.  At  the  end  of  that  time  we  again  find  him  at  the 
Convent  of  Mar  Saba,  occupying  one  of  the  many  rooms  in 
that  establishment  and  feeling  perfectly  at  home. 


CHAPTER    XLV. 


THE  MANUSCRIPT. 

FTEK  Hugh's  return  from  Bethlehem,  he  again  re- 
quested to  see  Father  Dominic.  The  Superior  him- 
self conducted  him  to  his  presence.  Up  flight  after 
flight  of  stone  steps  they  went,  through  rooms  and 
corridors,  to  the  very  tup  of  the  vast  building,  or,  as 
some  architect  might  choose  to  call  it,  a  series  of  buildings. 
The  Superior  knocked,  but  receiving  no  response,  gently 
opened  the  door  and  entered,  motioning  for  Hugh  to  follow. 

The  room  to  which  Hugh  now  for  the  first  time  had  access 
was  large  and  airy,  and  the  walls  were  covered  in  every 
available  space  from  floor  to  ceiling  with  books.  In  different 
parts  of  the  room  might  also  be  seen  numerous  chemicals 
and  philosophical  apparatus,  denoting  that  here  a  student  of 
Nature  and  her  mysteries  had  his  home.  Seated  at  a  table 
in  the  centre  of  this  apartment  sat  an  old  monk,  so  deeply 
absorbed  in  an  ancient  manuscript  spread  out  before  him 
as  to  be  totally  oblivious  of  the  presence  of  any  living  being 
besides  himself.  Of  rather  tall,  wiry-looking  form,  one 
would  have  judged  him  to  be  about  seventy  years  of  age. 
He  wore,  after  the  manner  of  the  East,  a  long,  flowing  white 
beard,  and  Nature  having  deprived  him  of  almost  every  ves- 
tige of  hair,  the  services  of  the  convent  razor  had  long  since 
been  dispensed  with.  To  any  one  who  had  paid  the  slightest 
attention  to  phrenology  or  physiognomy,  it  was  plain  to  be 
seen  that  here  was  one  far  above  the  ordinary  man  in  intel- 
lectual endowments.  Scattered  on  the  floor  around  him  lay 
books,  papers  and  manuscripts  of  every  age  and  tongue. 

The  Superior,  laying  his  hand  upon  the  old  monk's  shoul- 
der, spoke.  He  started  as  one  awakened  suddenly  from  a 
dream,  then  looking  up  and  seeing  his  Superior,  respect- 
fully arose,  saying: 


THE  MANUSCRIPT.  121 

"What  do  you  wish,  Keverend  Father?" 

"Here  is  a  young  American,  from  the  State  of  Cali- 
fornia," replied  the  Superior,  "who  has  an  autograph  letter 
from  the  Sultan,  authorizing  him  to  make  such  researches 
and  excavations  within  the  Empire  as  he  may  see  fit.  He 
had  already  conceived  the  idea  that  Gomorrah  was  situated 
on  the  southwest  shore  of  the  sea,  just  north  of  the  Salt 
Mountain,  when  I  told  him  of  you." 

During  this  speech  Father  Dominic  had  bent  upon  Hugh 
a  pair  of  the  keenest  black  eyes  he  had  ever  seen.  As  he 
scanned  him  from  head  to  foot  and  looked  into  his  eyes, 
Hugh  felt  as  though  he  was  reading  every  thought  which 
had  ever  been  engraven  on  the  tablet  of  his  soul.  At  the 
last  words  of  his  Superior  his  face  gleamed  with  satisfac- 
tion, and  extending  his  hand  cordially,  he  exclaimed  : 

"  We  shall  find  it  !  But  tell  me  how  it  happens  that  you 
have  a  clew  to  this  location  so  soon  after  your  arrival  in  the 
country  ?" 

"There  is  something  about  it  that  I  do  not  exactly  under- 
stand," replied  Hugh.  "But  I  got  it  from  an  ancient- 
looking  Arab,  who  related  to  me  the  tradition.  I  was 
doubtful  if  there  was  any  dependence  to  be  placed  in  it, 
but  I  thought  I  would  prospect  thereabout  a  little  anyhow. 
Now,  since  your  information  accords  with  mine  so  nearly,  I 
begin  to  suspect  there  is  more  in  it  than  I  have  imagined." 

"  Shall  I  show  you  my  manuscript?"  said 'Father  Dominic. 
"I  have  here  the  parchment  upon  which  the  fingers  of 
Samuel,  the  great  prophet,  have  moved.  This  is  more 
precious  to  me  than  all  the  gold  of  your  great  State." 

With  this  he  handed  out  a  piece  of  parchment  much  dis- 
colored, and  having  holes  in  it  here  and  there.  On  in- 
specting it  Hugh  could  discover  the  faint  impression  of 
ancient  characters. 

"I  should  think,"  remarked  Hugh,  "that  it  would  be  up- 
hill work  to  get  any  connected  text  out  of  that." 

"You  may  well  say  up-hill  work,  Mr.  Ashby.  I  have 
pondered  over  that  parchment  many  a  long  day.  I  have 


122  SACRIFICE. 

had  to  use  the  most  powerful  magnifying  glasses,  and  have 
applied  chemicals  to  bring  out  the  characters,  so  that  I 
might  read  them.  If  you  are  curious  about  such  things,  I 
will  at  some  leisure  time  give  you  the  key,  so  that  you  may 
read  it  for  yourself.  In  the  meantime  here  is  my  transla- 
tion. The  words  within  the  brackets  have  been  supplied." 

SAMUEL  TO   DAVID. 

Now,  therefore,  [doth]  Saul  seek  [thee,  even]  in  the  wil- 
derness of  Engaddi.  [And  his  wrath  knoweth]  no  bounds. 
Now,  [Saul  encamped  with]  three  thousand  chosen  men  of 
[Israel  at  ancient]  Gomorrah,  [between  the]  Pillar  of  Salt 
and  Sabbah.  And  his  [men  were  in]  sore  distress  [on  ac- 
count of  ]  the  great  heat  and  thirst;  [for  the  water  there- 
abouts] was  exceedingly  bitter.  And  Saul — 

"Now,"  said  Father  Dominic,  "I  will  show  you  the 
manuscript  under  a  powerful  lens.  You  could  not  decipher 
all  that  is  left  without  considerable  trouble,  even  with  the 
assistance  of  the  translation.  I  have  measured  carefully 
the  spaces,  and  have  inserted  such  words  as  would  corre- 
spond exactly  with  them,  at  the  same  time  making  sense  and 
agreeing  with  history." 

4 'That  would  seem,"  said  Hugh,  "to  locate  Gomorrah 
very  certainly,  for  even  if  Samuel  had  not  been  divinely  in- 
spired, it  is  still  more  than  likely  that  tradition  had  handed 
it  down  very  correctly  to  his  time.  But  may  I  inquire, 
Father,  how  you  became  possessed  of  this  valuable  docu- 
ment?" 

"There  is  quite  a  romantic  history  connected  with  it," 
replied  he,  "but  I  will  give  it  to  you  briefly.  Some  years 
ago  there  came  to  the  shores  of  the  Dead  Sea  a  party  of 
German  tourists.  They  stayed  around  here  a  few  days,  and 
then  left,  but  pne  of  them  either  remained  behind  or  came 
back  immediately.  I  cannot  tell  which.  He  roamed  about 
here  alone  for  some  time.  Our  fathers  used  to  meet  him 
occasionally,  but  he  did  not  seem  to  care  to  speak  to  any  one. 
One  day  news  was  brought  us  that  a  man  was  wounded  and 


THE  MANUSCRIPT.  123 

robbed  between  here  and  Ain  Jidy,  and  near  the  latter 
place.  Several  of  the  brotherhood  started  out  immediately 
with  all  the  appliances  for  relieving  the  wounded.  They 
found  him  in  a  very  precarious  condition,  and  placing  him 
on  a  litter,  they  brought  him  to  the  convent.  I  tried  to  talk 
with  him,  but  the  poor  young  man's  mind  began  to  wander, 
if,  indeed,  he  had  not  been  insane  before.  He  spoke  with 
great  difficulty,  and  seeing  that  his  wounds  were  mortal,  I 
wanted  him  to  spend  the  remainder  of  his  breath  in  beseech- 
ing the  clemency  of  the  God  before  whom  he  must  so  soon 
appear.  In  a  lucid  interval,  however,  he  said : 

"I  have  been  high  up  in  the  mountain  of  Engaddi,  and 
there  found  David's  Cave.  I  have  a  manuscript  which  I  am 
certain  will  prove  it."  Then  the  poor  young  man's  mind 
again  wandered,  and  in  his  delirium  he  said : 

' 'When  the  light  illumined  the  sea,  I  saw  Sodom  arise 
in  all  her  grandeur  and  beauty.  I  walked  her  streets,  and 
saw  her  people.  Oh,  Sara  !  Sara  !  I  might  have  won  a 
crown  of  eternal  glory,  but  oh,  the  sacrifice — the  awful  sac- 
rifice !  I  will  tell  it  you,"  he  cried,  rising  to  his  elbow,  but 
before  he  could  utter  another  word  he  fell  back  upon  his  bed 
dead.  This  manuscript  I  found  upon  his  person,  also  his 
address.  I  embalmed  his  body,  and  wrote  to  his  family 
myself.  His  brother  came  and  took  away  the  remains,  and 
it  was  of  him  that  I  begged  that  I  might  retain  the  manu- 
script." 

"This  is  a  very  interesting  history,"  remarked  Hugh, 
"  brief  as  it  is.  But  is  there  ever,  really,  a  light  upon  the 
sea?  I  have  read  that  there  was." 

"  Oh,  yes,"  responded  the  Father,  "  occasionally  there  is 
seen  a  kind  of  phosphorescent  light  upon  a  portion,  and 
sometimes  upon  the  whole  surface  of  the  sea;  and  this  is 
especially  the  case  once  a  year,  when  the  whole  southern 
end  is  most  brilliant  in  its  mystic  illumination.  But  this  is 
always  preceded  by  such  terribly  hot  blighting  winds,  that 
even  the  Arabs  flee  to  a  distance.  These  winds  seem  to 
leave  no  air  for  one  to  breathe,  and  almost  seem  to  dry  up 


124  SACRIFICE. 

the  blood  in  one's  veins — aye,  the  very  marrow  in  his  bones." 

"When  do  you  expect  this  light  again  in  its  intensity?" 
asked  Hugh. 

"  In  about  two  months." 

The  Superior  had  left  them,  unnoticed,  some  time  before, 
and  while  Father  Dominic  busied  himself  in  carefully  put- 
ting away  the  old  manuscripts,  Hugh  indulged  in  some  per- 
plexing reflections.  Never  allowing  himself  for  an  instant 
to  entertain  any  thought  of  the  supernatural,  yet  there 
seemed  some  connection  between  the  old  man  of  Masada 
and  the  story  of  the  young  German.  His  old  man  had  told 
him  to  be  at  a  certain  point  at  a  stated  time,  and  he  would 
see  the  mysteries  of  the  deep  reflected.  Might  it  not  be 
that  there  existed  some  natural  phenomenon,  as  yet  undis- 
covered, through  which  objects  in  the  bottom  of  this  sea 
were  reflected  in  the  atmosphere  ?  and  might  not  the  German 
have  been  overcome  by  the  intense  heat,  and  fancied,  when 
he  saw  the  reflection,  that  he  had  walked  in  the  streets  of  a 
city  ?  He  was  determined  to  probe  the  matter  to  the  bot- 
tom, and  resolved  to  be  at  the  designated  spot  at  the  time 
indicated.  Gomorrah  was  clearly  enough  located,  both  by 
the  old  man  of  Masada  and  by  the  ancient  manuscript,  to 
justify  him  in  proceeding  with  work  in  that  direction.  Turn- 
ing to  Father  Dominic,  he  told  him  of  the  treasure  he  had 
discovered  on  Masada,  but  he  gave  no  hint  of  his  interview 
with  the  old  man,  nor  the  unexpected  appearance  of  Isaac, 
the  Jew. 

"We  must,  "he  said,  "  manage  to  bring  that  treasure  here, 
without  exciting  the  suspicions  of  the  Arabs." 

Father  Dominic  remained  in  thought  for  a  moment,  and 
then  said:  " I  think  we  can  easily  settle  that.  Members  of 
this  community  are  continually  traveling  around  the  country, 
in  order  to  gather  provisions  to  store  away  for  times  of  need. 
When  we  have  means,  we  buy,  and  when  we  find  one  who 
has  a  surplus  and  is  disposed  to  waste  it,  we  try  to  beg  some 
of  it.  They  would  think  nothing  of  seeing  any  of  the 
brotherhood  carrying  burdens  from  any  part  of  the  country. 


THE   MANUSCRIPT.  125 

I  can  select  some  four  or  five  for  that  purpose — of  course 
with  the  consent  of  the  Superior,  for  you  understand  that  we 
are  all  under  obedience  here — who  can  bring  it  all  in  here 
in  the  course  of  a  month,  without  exciting  suspicion." 

"Then,  as  I  have  given  you  the  directions  where  to  find 
it,  I  will  leave  the  rest  to  you.  When  shall  we  make  a 
reconnoissance  down  to  Gomorrah  ?  " 

"At  any  time  it  may  suit  your  convenience." 

"Changing  the  conversation  somewhat,"  said  Hugh, 
"  what  do  you  think  of  the  Fellahin  of  to-day,  and  their 
descent  from  the  pre-Israelitic  stock  of  this  country  ?  That 
idea  has  been  advanced  of  late  by  more  than  one  man  of 
learning." 

"  I  think,  myself,  there  is  no  doubt  in  the  world  of  it," 
replied  the  Father.  "  We  have  manuscripts  here  over  3,000 
years  old,  which  prove  this." 

' '  Do  you  think  there  has  been  much  change  in  the  lan- 
guage ?" 

"Time,  of  course,  has  brought  with  it  some  additions, 
and  some  few  changes,  but  these  are  entirely  dialectic;  and 
the  further  we  go  back  the  less  change  we  find.  For  exam- 
ple, compare  the  language  of  3,000  years  ago  with  that  of 
2,000,  and  you  will  find  not  a  shade's  difference;  but  since 
that  time  the  Romans,  and  then  others,  coming  in  among 
them,  have  caused  some  additions." 

"I  should  like,  above  all  thiygs,"  said  Hugh,  "to  study 
those  old  manuscripts;  and  I  have  a  notion,  if  you,  dear  sir, 
will  play  teacher,  to  go  to  school  for  awhile  before  we  do 
anything  else." 

"As  the  Reverend  Father  Superior  has  turned  me  over  to 
you,"  the  Father  replied,  smiling,  "I  am  subject  to  your 
orders;  but  really  I  should  be  much  pleased  to  give  you  any 
instruction  within  my  ability.  Here  are  old  manuscripts 
that  we  can  go  over,  and  I  will  point  out  to  you  any  differ- 
ence that  may  exist." 

So  saying,  he  threw  down  bundle  after  bundle  of  dingy- 


126  SACKIFICE. 

looking  parchments,  as  though  he  intended  to  go  through 
them  all,  on  the  instant. 

"This  library,"  he  continued  with  a  pardonable  pride, 
"contains  more  old  books  and  more  manuscripts  than  any 
other  in  the  world,  and  you  can  have  the  free  use  of  it, 
together  with  all  the  information  your  humble  servant  has 
been  able  to  gather  for  the  last  half  century." 

"Is  it  possible  that  you  have  been  here  so  long  as  that?" 
asked  Hugh. 

"I  came  here,"  he  replied,  "at  the  age  of  twenty-three, 
and  having,  even  at  that  time,  some  reputation  as  a  linguist 
among  the  Fathers,  I  was  put  here  in  the  library,  and  here 
I  have  remained  for  fifty  years." 

" I  would  like,"  said  Hugh,  "to  be  able  to  spend  at  least 
a  year  with  you." 

"You  are  young,  my  son,  and  when  you  are  once  fairly 
oommenced  delving  in  these  old  parchments,  you  may  stay 
longer  than  a  year.  We  have  here  not  only  a  library  of  rare 
works,  but  besides  these  apparatus,  which  you  see  in  this 
room,  we  have  also  a  fine  laboratory,  which  I  will  show  you.'' 
Thus  speaking  he  led  the  way  into  an  adjoining  apartment, 
which  Hugh  could  see  was  supplied  with  every  conceivable 
apparatus  for  chemical  analysis. 

"And  here,"  he  continued,  going  into  still  another  room, 
"  here  you  see,  on  the  top  of  this  cliff,  we  have  an  observa- 
tory. You  can  now  well  imagine  that  those  fifty  years  have 
not  been  a  drag  to  me.  Other  Fathers  work  with  me  here, 
and  we  gather  whatever  is  of  practical  value,  and  put  it 
under  its  proper  heading,  in  these  big  books  you  see  on 
yonder  shelf." 

"How  does  it  happen,'7  inquired  Hugh,  "that  you  have 
such  a  large  building  here  ?  You  seem  to  have  room  for  an 
army." 

"As  I  told  you  awhile  ago,  we  collect  provisions,  and  store 
them,  so  that  in  time  of  great  distress  we  are  enabled  to  feed 
the  poor  people  around  us  and  keep  them  from  starving.  I 
will  show  you  through  our  store-rooms  some  day.  This  has 


THE   MANUSCRIPT.  127 

been  a  hard  year,  and  they  are  not  so  full  as  they  have  been; 
but  still  we  must  keep  a  large  amount  on  hand  for  fear  of 
worse  times  still.  No  member  of  this  order  can  be  idle  a 
day  when  in  health.  If  not  collecting  or  distributing,  he 
must  busy  himself  making  more  room.7' 

By  this  time  Hugh  felt  himself  thoroughly  domesticated 
in  this  solitary  convent,  and  looked  forward  with  great  inter- 
est to  the  work  in  view. 


CHAPTER   XV. 

THE  SIROCCO. 

,  WO  months  have  elapsed  since  Hugh  Ashby's  meet- 
ing with  the  old  man  of  Masada.  But  little  work 
has  been  done  toward  finding  the  buried  city  of 
Gomorrah,  for  it  has  suited  the  fancy  of  Hugh  to 
spend  the  most  of  his  time  in  the  library  of  the  Convent 
of  Mar  Saba.  Perched  in  this  lofty  aerie,  between  heaven 
and  earth,  he  had  found  much  that  was  interesting  and  in- 
structive; for  Father  Dominic,  being  by  far  the  most  learned 
man  he  had  ever  met,  imparted  to  him,  each  day,  something 
of  absorbing  interest.  His  principal  occupation,  however, 
was  the  study  of  the  language  of  the  country,  with  its  cor- 
ruptions and  additions  of  the  centuries  pas fc.  The  old  monk 
was  well  pleased  with  the  aptness  and  progress  of  his  pupil, 
and,  before  two  months  had  passed,  said  that  now  he  felt 
certain  that  he  could  converse  with  one  of  the  ancient  resi- 
dents of  Gomorrah,  if  there  were  such  a  thing  as  resurrect- 
ing one  alive,  in  the  course  of  their  excavations. 

The  treasure  had  all  been  removed  from  Masada  to  the 
Convent,  apparently  without  exciting  the  suspicion  of  any 
one.  Its  value  for  the  metal  alone  was  more  than  two  hun- 
dred thousand  dollars,  and  Hugh  insisted  that  half  of  it  at 
least  was  the  property  of  the  Brotherhood.  Their  share,  he 
said,  would  certainly  be  used  for  charity,  while  his  might  go 
to  sorae  more  ignoble  end. 

Just  as  the  sun  was  rising  over  the  distant  hills  of  Moab, 
Hugh  seated  himself  on  the  topmost  craig  of  Mar  Saba,  and 
overlooked  the  scene.  The  landscape,  though  neither  beau- 
tiful nor  charming,  still  possessed  a  peculiar  grandeur  of  its 
own.  With  the  eye,  he  could  trace  the  course  of  the  brook 
Kidron,  almost  from  Jerusalem  to  the  sea.  The  lofty  cliffs 


THE   SIROCCO.  129 

and  deep  chasms  appeared  awfully  magnificent  as  the  sun 
threw  his  slanting  rays  upon  them;  but  the  blackened,  incin- 
erated look,  and  the  entire  absence  of  verdure  or  vegetation 
of  any  kind,  impressed  him  deeply  with  the  thought  that 
terrible,  indeed,  are  the  righteous  judgments  of  an  offended 
God. 

" To-morrow  night,"  he  soliloquized,  "is  the  time  the  old 
man  of  Masada  told  me  to  be  at  Point  Costigan.  At  that 
time,  also,  Father  Dominic  looks  for  the  blighting  winds 
and  the  brilliant  light.  I  feel  impelled  to  go,  even  though 
it  would  appear  foolish  to  expect  to  see  anything  extra- 
ordinary at  the  mere  say-so  of  a  crazy  old  Arab.  But,  then, 
the  young  German — what  did  he  see  ?  To  see  and  sketch  a 
reflection  of  Sodom  would  well  be  worth  the  hardships  of 
the  wind,  if  it  is  possible  for  one  to  live  in  it  at  all.  I  will 
go — I  will  cross  over  the  eastern  shore  to-day;  for  if  what 
Father  Dominic  says  is  true,  to-morrow  it  will  be  impos- 
sible." 

He  then  descended  into  the  library,  where  the  monk,  even 
this  early  in  the  morning,  was  busily  engaged  with  his 
books. 

"I  shall  go  across  to  the  east  side  of  the  sea  to-day,"  said 
Hugh,  "  and  may  not  return  for  several  days.  In  the  mean- 
time do  not  be  uneasy  about  me." 

"  But,  my  son,  this  is  the  time  for  those  fearful  scorching 
gales  I  told  ytu  of  before,  and  they  are  two-fold  worse  on 
that  side  than  on  this.  I  would  advise  you  to  postpone  your 
excursion  for  several  days,  when  all  will  be  again  calm." 

"I  will  go,  and  if  the  heat  becomes  too  intense  I  can 
retreat;  if  not,  I  will  press  on  and  see  what  there  is  to  be 
seen." 

"  But,  my  son,  what  can  be  seen  but  the  light?  And  we 
can  go  out  on  one  of  these  craigs  here  and  behold  that,  and 
the  influence  of  the  scorching  wind  will  not  disturb  us." 

"I  will   go,"  returned  Hugh,   "and   go   alone.     In  the 
meantime,  Father,  pray  for  me." 
9 


130  SACRIFICE. 

"That,"  said  the  old  man,  in  an  anxious  tone,  "we  will 
all  most  certainly  do." 

After  breakfast  Hugh  packed  up  a  few  days' -provisions, 
taking  a  large  flask  of  the  wine  from  Herod's  store-house 
and  some  water,  and  started  out  on  horseback,  taking  with 
him  a  young  Arab  to  bring  the  animal  back.  On  arriving 
at  the  sea-shore  he  found  its  surface  as  smooth  as  polished 
glass,  and  his  small  boat  undisturbed  in  the  place  where  he 
had  left  it.  He  entered  it,  and  rowed  along  down  towards 
Ain  Jidy.  He  still  retained  three  or  four  Arabs  at  that  cen- 
tral point,  and,  on  arriving  there,  he  found  them  making 
preparations  for  departure.  The  hot  wind  was  coming,  they 
said,  in  which  no  man  could  breathe  or  live.  Even  the 
frogs,  they  told  him,  which  he  had  heard  croaking  around, 
and  the  lizards  and  scorpions  of  the  rocks,  were  hunting  a 
place  of  refuge  away  from  the  dread  effects  of  that  deathly 
simoom.  Hugh,  however,  had  determined  on  braving  it, 
and,  mooring  his  largest  boat  so  as  to  stand  the  storm,  if 
one  came,  he  took  the  smaller  one  aud  rowed  straight  across 
the  calm,  still  waters  towards  the  eastern  shore.  The  Arabs, 
who  had  become  really  attached  to  him,  looked  after  the 
boat  in  wonderment,  mixed  with  alarm.  "  But  then,"  they 
thought,  ' '  before  the  morrow  he  will  be  safely  sheltered  in 
some  spot  distant  from  the  sea,  and  away  from  its  deadly, 
scorching  breath." 

Not  a  ripple  had  as  yet  disturbed  the  calm  surface  of  the 
sea  when  Hugh  landed,  and  the  day  had  been  one  of  the 
most  pleasant  which  he  had  experienced  since  his  arrival  in 
that  desolate  region.  He  pulled  his  boat  entirely  out  of  the 
water,  and  then  tied  the  line  to  a  huge  rock.  The  shore  all 
around  here  was  incrusted  with  salt,  and  as  far  as  the  eye 
could  reach  not  a  trace  of  vegetation  or  animal  life  could  be 
seen.  Looking  around  to  see  if  he  could  find  some  sheltered 
spot  on  which  he  could  encamp  for  the  night,  and  possibly 
spend  the  greater  portion  of  the  next  day,  he  saw,  a  short 
distance  back,  the  entrance  to  a  small  ravine.  {Shouldering 
his  effects,  he  turned  his  steps  in  that  direction,  and  with 


THE  SIROCCO.  131 

much  difficulty  made  his  way  over  the  sharp  fragments  of 
flint  rock  for  nearly  a  mile  up  the  deep  and  rugged  hollow. 
Here  he  found  a  little  very  poor  water  dripping  down  over 
the  rocks,  and  a  few  dry  bushes.  Darkness  was  now  setting 
in,  and  Hugh,  gathering  a  few  twigs,  made  a  little  fire  on 
which  to  prepare  his  coffee.  After  eating  his  lonely  supper 
he  there,  beneath  the  shadow  of  those  frowning  cliffs,  with 
no  canopy  over  his  head  but  heaven's  blue  vault  studded 
with  its  myriads  of  twinkling  stars,  sought  the  slumber 
which  was  to  refresh  and  strengthen  him  for  the  perils  of 
the  coming  day.  He  had  tried  to  find  a  spot  free  from  the 
sharp  rocks  large  enough  on  which  to  stretch  his  weary 
frame;  but,  being  unsuccessful  in  his  search,  he  was  forced 
to  do  the  next  thing  most  comfortable,  if  so  you  might  call 
it,  which  was  to  sit  on  one  stone  and  recline  his  head 
and  shoulders  against  another — and  thus  he  slept. 

And  in  his  dreams  he  wandered  back  to  fair,  golden  Cali- 
fornia, and  once  more,  with  her  he  loved  so  well  beside  him, 
drove  his  span  of  dashing  grays  along  the  pleasant  shady 
avenue  which  connects  the  cities  of  San  Jose  and  Santa 
Clara.  The  joyous  notes  of  song-birds  floated  on  the  per- 
fume-laden air,  fountains  on  either  side  tossed  their  spark- 
ling waters  on  high,  and  the  cool  sea-breezes  played  around 
them,  lightly  touching  the  rippling  raven  tresses  of  his  be- 
loved. And  thus,  in  that  vast  solitude,  surrounded  by 
desolation  utter  and  complete,  he  dreamed  the  night  away ; 
but  at  daylight  the  moaning  of  the  winds  through  the  bare 
rocks  of  the  ravine  awakened  him,  and  brought  him  to  a 
remembrance  of  his  situation.  Hastily  he  prepared  his 
morning  meal,  with  an  inward  assurance  that  it  would  be  the 
last  for  that  day.  Hurriedly  gathering  up  his  things,  he 
was  standing  a  moment,  irresolute  what  to  do,  when  he  saw 
approaching  him  from  the  direction  of  the  sea  an  odd- 
looking  old  Arab,  whom  he  fancied  resembled  his  hero  of 
Masada.  As  he  came  near  to  Hugh  he  said : 

' '  Young  man,  dost  thou  not  know  that  this  day  a  death- 
dealing  wind  sweeps  across  this  sea?    Any  boy  could  {jell 


132  SACRIFICE. 

thee  that.    Even  now  thou  hast  time  to  escape,  and,  if  thou 
wilt  follow  me,  I  will  lead  thee  on  to  safety." 

"I  shall  remain  here,"  answered  Hugh,  "let  the  conse~ 
quences  be  what  they  may.  I  am  familiar  with  the  legend 
of  which  you  speak,  and  to-day  will  test  its  truth. " 

' '  Rash  man !"  exclaimed  the  other,  ' '  one  hour  from  now 
will  be  too  late.  Thou  couldst  not  find  thy  way  out  of  this 
place  alone.  Come,  we  are  losing  time.  A  few  miles 
further  back,  and  the  wind  and  sea  may  rage  as  they  will. " 

"I  thank  you  for  your  kind  intentions,  my  friend;  but  I 
have  resolved  to  remain  on  this  shore  to-day — and  remain  I 
will!" 

"And  wilt  thou,  then,  out  of  mere  curiosity,  risk  thy  life  ? 
Young  man,  think  again!  This  is  not  bravery,  as  thou 
mayst  think,  but  rather  foolishness." 

"  Men  have  lived  through  it,"  said  Hugh;  "  and  what  man 
has  done,  man  can  do." 

"  Thou  hast  heard,"  said  the  old  man,  "  of  the  light  which 
follows  the  wind,  and  of  some  traditional  reflections  or  re- 
fractions, and  wished  to  see  them;  but,  young  man,  dost 
thou  not  know  the  penalty  of  curiosity?  Hast  thou  not 
read  of  Lot's  wife  ?  It  was  for  looking  back  upon  Sodom, 
stricken  by  the  wrath  of  God,  that  she  was  changed  into  the 
salty  pillar,  which  shall  stand  forever  as  a  monument  of  her 
weak  curiosity  and  disobedience." 

"I  have  not  the  consciousness,"  replied  Hugh,  "  that  I  am 
in  this  matter  violating  one  of  God's  laws,  but,  on  the  other 
hand,  I  am  impressed  with  the  idea  that  good  will  come  of 
it.  My  desire  is  to  serve  God  in  all  things,  and  I  cannot 
believe  that  he  will  inflict  a  curse  on  one  whose  intentions 
always  tend  that  way." 

' '  If  one  can  pass  through  all  the  trials  and  all  the  tempta- 
tions that  may  befall  him,  still  holding  fast  to  these  inten- 
tions and  never  wavering,  it  may  be  well  for  him;  otherwise 
it  were  better  for  him  that  he  had  never  been  born.  But, 
as  I  am  old  and  feeble,  I  must  be  hurrying  on. " 


THE   SIEOCCO.  133 

"  You  are  fleeing  toward  the  Land  of  Moab,"  said  Hugh. 
"  In  that  direction  once  fled  Lot  on  that  fearful  day  of  de- 
struction." 

"  Yes;  and  knowing  the  power  of  the  Almighty  wrath,  he 
would  flee  continuallyfcrather  than  provoke  it.  But,  young 
man,  I  have  warned  thee.  Thou  hast  rejected  my  warning; 
now  I  leave  thee  to  abide  the  consequences.  Fare  thee 
well!" 

%So  speaking  the  old  man  passed  on.  Hugh  stood  and 
watched  the  receding  figure  until  it  had  disappeared  among 
the  rocks.  Already  was  the  wind  beginning  to  whistle 
fiercely  through  the  ravine,  and  he  could  hear  the  dull 
heavy  roar  of  the  sea  as  it  angrily  lashed  itself  against  the 
craggy  shore.  Hotter  and  hotter  came  the  gale,  until  at  last 
it  seemed  a  very  blast  from  Vulcan's  forge,  blown  through 
the  infernal  regions.  A  thin,  purplish  haze  arose,  which, 
increasing  each  moment,  soon  enveloped  the  face  of  all  na- 
ture. Through  it  the  sun  shone  with  a  dull,  lurid  glare, 
presenting  a  most  singular  and  awful  appearance.  Hugh 
crouched  under  the  shadow  of  the  huge  rocks,  trying  in  vain 
to  find  a  refuge  from  the  withering  blast;  but  it  sought  him 
out  in  every  place  of  concealment,  heating  the  rocks  until 
they  blistered  his  flesh  wherever  it  came  in  cpntact  with 
them.  His  sufferings  were  becoming  almost  unendurable. 
His  flesh  seemed  as  though  it  would  dry  and  shrivel  up  on 
his  bones,  like  that  of  an  ancient  mummy.  His  eyes  felt 
like  balls  of  fire,  set  in  sockets  of  burning  sand.  He  tried 
to  protect  them  from  the  fiery  wind  with  a  pair  of  glasses, 
but  the  steel  ribs  burnt  his  cheeks,  and  dashing  them  to  the 
ground,  he  rushed  to  the  little  pool.  Standing  in  it,  he 
would  throw  the  water  into  his  face  and  eyes,  but  in  that  he 
found  but  a  second's  relief,  for  the  instantaneous  evapora- 
tion seemed  but  to  add  to  his  pain.  Then  seizing  his 
blanket,  and  wetting  it  in  the  pool,  he  threw  it  over  his 
head  and  shoulders;  but,  in  his  misery,  it  seemed  he  had 
gotten  no  more  than  one  breath  of  the  moist  air  before  it 
was  dry  again.  Again  and  again  he  dipped  it  into  the  pool, 


134  8ACBIFICE. 

when  at  last  that  went  dry.  The  trickling  of  the  water  down 
into  it  had  ceased.  Now  it  seemed  that  his  last  hope  was 
gone,  and  the  strong  man,  whose  frame  seemed  to  have  been 
created  to  endure,  cried  aloud  in  his  agony: 

"  O  God!  Thou  who  temperest  the  wind  to  the  shorn 
lamb,  spare,  oh,  spare  me !" 

Still  holding  his  blanket  over  his  head — for  dry  as  it  was, 
it  seemed  to  afford  some  little  protection  from  the  wind — 
he  crawled  over  the  sharp,  burning  stones  up  the  ravine, 
searching  for  another  pool  in  which  again  to  dampen  it.  A 
flask  of  the  Herodian  wine,  which  he  had  brought  with  him, 
proved  of  infinite  value  to  him  in  all  this,  for  at  each  swal- 
low he  seemed  to  gain  a  new  life  and  vigor.  Each  time  he 
placed  the  flask  to  his  lips  he  found  it  more  difficult  to  re- 
strain himself  from  drinking  the  whole  of  its  contents .  He 
must  be  sparing  of  it,  for  he  knew  not  how  much  greater  his 
need  might  be  before  the  end  of  this  terrible  day.  And 
thus,  in  that  desolate  place,  under  the  glowing  sun,  and  at 
the  mercy  of  the  ten  thousand  times  more  burning  wind,  he 
spent  the  day,  crawling  from  one  pool  to  another. 

Slowly  the  red,  pitiless  sun  traced  his  course  across  the 
heavens,  until  at  last  his  reluctant  face  was  hidden  behind 
the  western,  hills.  The  winds  did  not  allay  with  his  de- 
parture, but  seemed  rather  to  grow  more  furious.  Accord- 
ing to  the  tradition  Hugh  was  following,  however,  it  must 
soon  become  calm,  and  he  concluded  to  make  his  way  back 
to  the  point  before  darkness  rendered  the  task  more  diffi- 
cult. As  he  emerged  from  the  ravine,  he  found  that  his 
sufferings  were  only  just  begun.  He  had  now  no  protection 
whatever  from  the  winds,  which  seemed  to  have  stirred  up 
and  absorbed  every  pool  of  sulphur,  asphaltum  and  other 
compounds  which  surrounded  the  sea.  But  onward  he 
pressed — still  onward.  The  time  for  vain  regrets  was  past; 
the  stern  realities  of  the  present  called  for  all  his  energies, 
mental  and  physical. 

Almost  blind,  with  flesh  blistered  from  head  to  foot,  and 
lungs  feeling  as  though  they  had  inhaled  fiery  flames  all  day, 


THE  SIROCCO.  135 

at  last  Hugh  reached  the  shore.  In  a  moment  all  was  calm. 
Suddenly  the  winds  subsided,  as  though  at  the  voice  of  the 
Most  High,  commanding  them,  ' '  Peace — be  still !"  A  second 
of  time  only  between  the  hurricane  and  the  dead  calm.  The 
dull,  heavy  waters  of  the  sea  found  their  level  in  a  moment, 
and  it  was  as  smooth  and  placid  as  though  it  had  never 
known  a  storm.  Weak,  exhausted,  and  suffering,  with  no 
longer  the  necessity  for  exertion,  Hugh  sank  upon  the 
ground,  and  for  the  first  time  in  his  life  lost  consciousness 

in  a  swoon. 

•x-  •*  -x-  *  *  -H-  •* 

Delicate  female  fingers  were  laid  upon  his  brow,  which 
carried  a  soothing  influence  in  their  touch.  A  cup  of  ice- 
cold  water  was  placed  to  his  parched  and  burning  lips,  and 
he  drank.  The  same  hands  bathed  his  eyes,  his  forehead 
and  his  entire  face,  with  the  grateful  refreshing  fluid.  He 
opened  his  eyes.  A  soft,  lustrous  light,  rivalling  in  splen- 
dor the  noonday  sun,  seemed  to  permeate  the  atmosphere. 
The  air  was  no  longer  hot  and  scorching,  but  soft  and 
balmy  as  any  Spring  morning  in  his  own  California.  Gentle 
breezes  played  around  him,  which  seemed  to  have  floated 
over  and  gathered  the  fragrance  of  a  thousand  flowery  fields. 
He  fancied  he  was  dreaming,  and  again  closed  his  eyes,  that 
the  beautiful  vision  might  not  be  dispelled.  Once  more  the 
soft,  tender  female  hand  bathed  his  fevered  brow.  Now  he 
thought  he  was  at  home,  with  his  loved  Miriam  as  his  wife — 
that  he  had  been  ill,  even  to  the  verge  of  death,  and  she 
was  ministering  to  his  wants — that  the  events  of  this  terrible 
day  were  but  the  hallucinations  of  a  diseased  imagination. 
Once  more  he  opened  his  eyes.  Still  the  same  soft  golden 
glow  pervaded  everywhere.  Still  the  same  balmy,  perfumed 
air  floated  around  him.  "If  this  be  a  dream,"  he  thought, 
"let  it  not  be  suddenly  broken."  Still  those  delicate  fingers 
touched  his  forehead,  thrilling  his  being  with  delight.  Once 
more  she  offered  him  the  cup  of  water,  and  raising  his  eyes, 
he  for  the  first  time  clearly  saw  the  lovely  owner  of  the  hand. 
Neither  sleeping  nor  waking  had  he  ever  before  beheld  such 


136  SACRIFICE. 

beauty  in  human  form.  "Surely  an  angel  has  been  sent 
from  heaven,"  he  thought,  "  to  rescue  me."  A  loose,  white 
garment,  caught  together  at  the  shoulders  with  a  jewelled 
clasp,  and  partially  revealing  the  beauties  of  the  faultless 
bust,  fell  to  the  feet  in  long  sweeping  folds.  A  golden 
girdle  confined-  it  to  the  waist,  and  displayed  to  advantage 
this  perfect  female  figure.  Long,  floating  golden  hair  almost 
shrouded  the  lovely  neck  and  arms,  which  otherwise  were 
destitute  of  covering.  To  an  artist,  the  face  would  have 
been  an  embodiment  of  his  dream,  when  he  sought  to  paint 
the  first  woman  new  and  perfect  from  the  hand  of  her  Maker. 
As  she  leaned  over  him,  her  beautiful  countenance  expressed 
the  deepest  pity,  which,  as  she  saw  him  move,  and  an  intel- 
ligence begin  to  beam  from  his  eyes,  changed  to  deep  grati- 
tude, and  raising  her  glorious  blue  orbs  toward  heaven,  she 
exclaimed:  "He  liveth  !  T  thank  Thee,  O  God,  for  Thy 
great  mercies  !" 


CHAPTER   XVI. 

p 

SODOM. 

COMPLETELY  bewildered,  Hugh  Ashby  arose  toy  his 
feet.  Was  he  still  in  the  land  of  the  living,  or  had 
he  indeed  crossed  the  river  Death  and  joined  the 
great  majority  ?  He  had  expected,  from  all  that  had 
been  told  him,  that  he  might  possibly  behold  the 
reflection  of  the  city,  through  some  general  law  of  the  Cre- 
ator which  as  yet  had  not  been  understood;  but  here  before 
him  was — not  the  reflected  picture,  but  the  magnificent  city 
itself.  The  fairest  of  all  earth's  daughters  had  given  him 
drink,  and  had  bathed  his  brow.  He  heard  the  busy  hum 
of  a  city  full  of  life  and  motion.  The  shouts  of  a  multitude 
and  the  songs  of  merry-makers  came  to  him  from  within  its 
walls.  He  was  about  to  speak,  when  the  fair  being  who 
had  ministered  to  him,  placing  her  finger  upon  her  lips, 
silently  motioned  him  to  follow  her.  As  she  moved  before 
him,  light  and  graceful  as  some  ethereal  being,  her  tiny, 
sandalled  feet  scarce  touching  earth,  she  seemed  more  than 
ever  the  creation  of  some  beautiful  dream.  As  they  ap- 
proached the  outer  wall,  on  the  summit  of  which  patrolled 
the  guards,  she  turned  to  him,  and  extending  her  fair  hand, 
clasped  his  in  a  firm  and  gentle  hold;  and  thus  they  silently 
entered  the  gate.  The  sentinel  looked  astonished  at  the  ap- 
pearance of  a  stranger,  and  demanded  the  countersign. 
Hugh's  companion  spoke  to  him,  and  they  were  permitted 
to  pass  on.  Men  and  women  were  in  the  streets  and  in  the 
market-places.  The  scene  was  one  of  busy  activity.  Each 
seemed  bent  on  driving  a  trade,  or  providing  for  some  want, 
either  real  or  imaginary.  But  there  were  idlers  here,  too. 
A  crowd  of  them  on  a  corner  cried  out : 

"A  stranger  !    a  stranger  !     Give  him  over  to  us,  accord- 
ing to  the  edicts  of  the  great  King  Bar  a  !" 


138  SACRIFICE. 

Paying  no  attention  to  their  shouts,  Hugh's  fair  compan- 
ion simply  grasped  his  hand  more  firmly,  and  continued  on 
her  course,  until,  arriving,before  a  sumptuous  building,  she 
entered  its  arched  doorway.  After  ascending  a  long  flight 
of  stairs  and  passing  into  a  hall,  she  opened  a  door  on  one 
side,  and  invited  him,  in  tones  of  sweetest  melody,  to  enter. 
Here  was  a  divan  or  couch,  covered  with  purple,  fringed 
with  gold.  Upon  this  she  placed  him,  and,  turning,  left  the 
room.  She  was  gone  but  a  moment,  when  she  returned, 
carrying  a  silver  basin,  containing  perfumed  water,  and  a 
vessel  of  oil. 

"I  see,"  she  said,  in  the  language  he  had  studied  so  well 
with  Father  Dominic,  with  only  a  slight  variation  in  pro- 
nunciation, "I  see  that  thou  art  footsore  and  weary.  Let 
me  anoint  thy  feet." 

Thinking  to  humor  her  in  all  things,  Hugh  permitted  her 
to  remove  his  boots,  and  watched  with  curiosity  her  pro- 
ceedings. After  bathing  his  feet  in  the  perfumed  water, 
which  soothed  and  relieved  their  blistered,  painful  surface, 
and  drying  them  tenderly  with  a  soft  linen  cloth,  she  poured 
upon  them  the  sweetly-scented  ointment.  This  she  wiped 
off  with  her  golden  hair,  as  it  hung  in  loose  abandon  to  her 
waist.  All  this  was  done  with  the  greatest  reverence  and 
seeming  awe.  During  all  this  time  Hugh  had  not  spoken. 
Bewilderment,  complete  and  overshadowing,  had  taken 
possession  of  him.  He  knew  not  what  to  say,  and  con- 
cluded to  see  more  before  he  should  endeavor  to  control  the 
course  of  events.  After  wiping  the  oil  from  his  feet,  she 
reverently  kissed  each  one,  and  taking  a  pair  of  elegant 
sandals  from  a  closet  near  at  hand,  she  bound  them  on.  As 
Hugh  reclined  on  the  couch,  unresistant  to  her  sweet  minis- 
trations, a  sense  of  supreme  comfort  and  enjoyment  per- 
vaded his  whole  being.  Now  seating  herself  on  the  floor  at 
his  feet,  and  resting  her  elbow  on  the  side  of  the  divan,  she 
leaned  her  fair  head  upon  her  hand  and  looked  up  into  his 
face.  It  was  a  look  mingled  with  confidence,  with  rever- 
ence, and  with  expectation.  If  Hugh  had  thought  her 


SODOM.  139 

beautiful  when  first  lie  saw  her,  he  now  thought  her  a  hun- 
dred-fold more  so.  He  waited  for  her  to  speak,  while  she, 
evidently,  was  awaiting  some  account  of  himself.  Pres- 
ently, in  sweet,  silvery  tones,  she  again  broke  the  silence, 
and  said,  with  a  confidence  that  she  was  right : 

"Whence  comest  thou?    From  Heaven?" 

"Nay,"  he  answered;  "not  from  Heaven.  I  am  but  a 
weak,  sinful  mortal  of  earth." 

"And  art  thou,  then,  not  the  Promised  One  ?  Oh,  I  have 
waited — waited  so  long — so  long  !"  she  exclaimed,  mourn- 
fully. 

"  For  what  hast  thou  waited,  fair  one?"  queried  Hugh. 

"Perhaps  for  thee,"  she  replied.  "Perhaps  to  wait  on, 
and  on,  until  the  soul  sickens  and  prays  for  oblivion. 

"Waiting  for  me?"  murmured  Hugh  to  himself.  "I 
wonder  what  she  can  require  of  me  ?" 

Then,  as  he  looked  down  into  those  lustrous  eyes,  beam- 
ing full  upon  him,  and  filled,  half  with  a  confident  expectation 
and  half  with  a  deep,  desponding  fear,  he  seemed  called 
upon  to  give  his  allegiance  to  the  very  Queen  of  Beauty  her- 
self. But  the  image  of  his  own  dear,  faithful  Miriam  arose 
before  him,  and  in  the  depths  of  his  soul  he  swore  that 
while  his  heart  might  know  pity,  and  answer  its  calls,  it 
should  acknowledge  no  other  love. 

"This  is  a  mystery  to  me,"  he  said.  "I  know  not  where 
I  am,  nor  how  I  came  here,  unless,  indeed,  this  is  ancient 
Sodom  arisen  to  take  her  place  once  more  among  the  cities 
of  the  earth." 

"Didst  say,"  she  uttered,  eagerly,  "that  Sodom  was  once 
more  to  take  her  place  as  one  of  the  cities  of  the  earth  ?" 

"I  said  nothing  of  the  kind,"  he  replied,  "for  I  am 
entirely  ignorant  of  the  situation.  Please  tell  me  who  you 
are,  and  perhaps  we  may  come  to  some  understanding." 

"  I  ?  "  she  said,  '  *  who  am  I  ?  I  am  simply  Sara.  I  do 
not  belong  to  the  great  ones  of  the  city.  Dost  thou  know 
Abraham  ?  He  who  saved  King  Bara  and  his  people  from 
the  King  of  the  Elamites  ?  He  laid  his  hand  upon  my  head 


140  SACRIFICE. 

and,  blessing  me,  called  me  Sara,  because,  he  said,  I  looked 
like  his  spouse.     That  is  how  I  am  Sara;  nothing  but  Sara." 

"Abraham,  child!"  exclaimed  Hugh.  "He  lived  thirty- 
eight  hundred  years  ago !" 

"Yes,  I  know,"  she  said,  "for  have  I  not  counted  in  tor- 
ment and  in  pain  each  moment  of  those  years." 

"  Tell  me,"  he  said,  rather  impatiently,  "  tell  me  where  I 
am.  Is  this  indeed  Sodom  arisen,  or  have* I  been  carried  off 
while  insensible  to  some  distant  place  ?" 

"Why  dost  thou  ask  me  this  thing?"  she  said,  despondingly. 
4 '  What  else  can  I  do  to  show  thee  thou  art  welcome  ?" 

Arising  from  her  lowly  posture  at  his  feet  she  again  left 
the  room,  and  returned  in  a  moment  with  a  golden  cup  in 
her  hand. 

' '  Here, "  she  said,  ' '  is  wine  made  by  Abraham  himself. 
That  is  certainly  fit  beverage  for  angels.  The  heavenly 
messengers,  who  bade  Lot  to  depart  from  this  accursed 
place,  were  dressed  as  ordinary  men — which  thou  art  not — 
and  they  pretended  to  be  weary  travelers  seeking  rest;  and 
in  that  guise  they  looked  into  his  heart  and  saw  that  it  was 
good.  Look  thou,  oh,  celestial  being!  deep  down  into  mine, 
and  see  if  sorrow  and  pain  have  not  chastened  it !  See  if  I 
am  not  worthy  of  thy  confidence.  Oh,  tell  me!  Ar,t  thou 
not  the  promised  Messenger?'' 

' '  Lady, "  said  Hugh,  more  mystified  than  ever,  ' '  will  you 
commence  at  the  beginning,  and  tell  me  all  about  yourself  ? 
I  am  completely  bewildered.  One  of  your  age  could  cer- 
tainly never  have  seen  Abraham." 

She  had  remained  standing  after  offering  him  the  wine, 
and  still  he  held  the  cup  in  his  hand.  At  Hugh's  last  speech 
her  beautiful  face  was  overshadowed  by  sorrow,  that  he 
whom  she  still  regarded  as  a  superior  being,  should  with- 
hold from  her  his  confidence.  Rising  to  a  sitting  position, 
Hugh  made  room  for  her  beside  him,  and  said : 

"Sit  thee  here,  my  child,  and  tell  me  all  thou  knowest, 
and  if,  perchance,  I  can  do  aught  to  serve  thee,  consistent 
with  my  allegiance  to  God,  and  to  a  woman  whom  I  have 


SODOM.  141 

sworn  always  to  love,  I  will  do  so.     Now,  sit  thee  down  and 
tell  me  all." 

"Not  beside  thee  will  I  sit,  but  here,"  and  'dropping 
gracefully  upon  the  floor,  she  resumed  her  humble  posture 
at  his  feet.  With  head  resting  against  the  side  of  the  couch 
and  face  upturned  to  his,  so  that  he  could  behold  every  vary- 
ing expression  which  flitted  over  her  perfect  features,  she 
began : 

"  Since  thou  dost  command  it,  I  will  tell  thee  all  I  know, 
which  is  not  much.  Thou  dost  not  know  how  I  have  suffered, 
and  so  long — oh,  so  long!"  and  she  paused  for  a  moment 
seemingly  lost  in  thought,  then  again  continued : 

"  Sodom  was  a  great  city.  Its  western  wall  was  washed 
by  the  river  Jordan.  Its  lands  were  more  fertile  than  all 
the  country  around,  inasmuch  as  that  he  who  sowed  one 
measure  of  grain  reaped  a  thousand.  The  hills  to  the  east 
were  filled  with  gold,  and  the  people  took  it  out  in  great 
abundance.  Sodom  grew  rich,  and  excited  the  envy  of  the 
surrounding  nations,  and  wealth  brought  in  its  train  corrup- 
tion and  evil  deeds.  When  I  was  a  child,  the  King  of  the 
Elamites  made  war  in  Sodom,  and  carried  the  people  into 
captivity.  I  was  sold  to  Abraham,  the  just  man,  and 
remained  with  him  ten  years .  Then  the  Sodomites  and  the 
inhabitants  of  Gomorrah  rebelled  against  the  King  of  the 
Elamites,  and  recovered  their  land.  Then  Abraham  re- 
stored me  to  my  people;  but  before  this  he  had  taught  me 
to  serve  the  living  God,  with  whom  he  daily  walked,  and  he 
told  me  that  the  sinful  practices  of  the  Sodomites  were  hate- 
ful in  the  sight  of  the  Most  High,  and  that  it  was  wrong  to 
indulge  in  any  but  lawful  pleasures.  I  fell  down  upon  my 
face  and  besought  him  not  to  return  me  to  my  kinspeople ;  for, 
I  said,  I  could  have  no  protection  from  their  pernicious  ways. 
But  Abraham  told  me  the  living  God  would  watch  over  me, 
and  if  I  constantly  sought  His  protection,  no  harm  could 
befall  me.  So  I  returned  into  Sodom.  Then  came  Lot, 
Abraham's  kinsman,  and  dwelt  amongst  us.  Two  angels  of 
the  Lord  appeared  as  men  upon  the  streets,  as  thou  hast 


142  SACRIFICE. 

done  this  day,  and  Lot  took  them  to  his  home,  and  protected 
them  from  the  rabble.  And  they  told  Lot  to  flee  the  city, 
because  God  had  determined  to  destroy  it;  and  Lot  and  his 
family  fled.  Then  the  angels  said  unto  me : 

"'Follow  Lot,  child,  and  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come, 
because  the  Lord  God  hath  this  day  resolved  upon  the 
destruction  of  this  wicked  city." 

"And  I  answered,  'I  will  not  fly,  and  leave  my  kins- 
people.  I  will  die  with  them.'  And  the  angel  spoke  again : 

"  'Wpe  be  unto  thee,  child,  if  thou  disobeyest  the  will  of 
the  Lord,  which  is,  that  thou  flee  from  this  place.  We  have 
searched  through  all  this  vast  city  for  ten  righteous  men, 
but  have  found  them  not.  Their  sins  have  cried  aloud  to 
Heaven  for  vengeance,  and  this  day  shall  a  fearful  judgment 
come  upon  them.  Fire  shall  rain  down  from  Heaven, 
and  the  ground  shall  be  convulsed  and  burst  asunder.  The 
city  shall  sink  a  thousand  cubits,  and  the  mountains  shall 
arise  and  encompass  it.  The  Jordan  shall  cease  its  flow  to 
the  sea,  and  all  the  country  around  shall  be  so  scorched  and 
blackened  by  the  sulphurous  flames,  that  mankind  shall  for- 
ever know  that  the  curse  of  Jehovah  rests  upon  it.  The 
awful  chasm  shall  be  filled  with  water,  bitter,  brackish  and 
salty  to  the  taste,  and  its  stench  shall  be  forever  in  the  nos- 
trils of  the  Sodomites.  And  they  shall  be  buried  under  all 
this,  dead,  yet  forever  living.  They  shall  pray  for  death, 
but  it  shall  ever  be  afar  off.  Once  a  year  the  city  shall  rise 
and  remain  on  the  surface  of  the  waters  for  the  space  of 
twelve  hours.  At  each  resurrection  shall  the  people  pursue 
the  same  occupations  and  pleasures  as  before  the  day  of 
wrath,  that  the  pain  of  sinking  may  each  time  be  more  poig- 
nant. Forever  shall  remorse  gnaw  like  a  canker  worm  in 
their  hearts,  but  to  no  avail.  Heaven  shall  be  deaf  to  their 
supplications,  and  all  hell  shall  jeer  at  them.  And  thus  it 
shall  remain  for  three  thousand  eight  hundred  years.  If  all 
that  time  thou  dost  remain  true,  and  curse  not  the  name  of 
God,  there  may  be  a  redemption  of  all  Sodom,  because  of 
thee.  Heaven  may  send  thee  a  deliverer,  on  certain  condi- 


SODOM.  143 

tions.  If,  after  that  time,  one  of  Earth's  sons,  possessing 
youth,  beauty,  strength,  wealth,  and  the  love  of  true  hearts, 
can  be  found,  holding  in  his  soul  the  sublime  charity  which, 
abandoning  all  that  earth  holds  most  dear,  shall  take  upon 
itself  the  completion  of  Sodom's  atonement,  God  may 
accept  the  sacrifice.  First,  he  must  willingly  accept  for  one 
year,  the  living  death  which  shall  come  upon  these  people, 
and  then  descending  into  hell,  remain  there  so  long  as  God 
doth  will  it.  When  such  a  man  as  this  shall  be  found,  then, 
and  then  only,  shall  those  of  Sodom's  inhabitants  who 
accept  the  plan  of  salvation  offered  by  the  Son  of  God  be 
saved.  Thou  wilt  know  that  the  time  hath  come  when  a 
<nessenger  shows  thee  this  signet,  which  will  tell  its  own 
story.  And  he,  the  messenger,  must  have  received  it  from 
the  hands  of  the  one  he  loves  best  of  all  on  earth,  that  his 
sacrifice  may  be  the  more  complete.' " 

Hugh  Ashby  listened  to  this  recital  with  profound  inter- 
est. He  had  always  held  that  there  could  be  no  real  charity 
without  sacrifice,  and  now  his  theory  was  about  to  be  tested. 
Could  it  be  possible  that  he  was  the  messenger  ordained  by 
Heaven  to  redeem  this  people.  Great  drops  of  sweat  stood 
upon  his  forehead,  and  he  exclaimed : 

"  O  God!     Thy  will  be  done,  not  mine." 

Regardless  of  his  emotion,  Sara  continued:  "And  the 
angels  left.  And  then,"  she  exclaimed,  springing  to  her  feet 
and  throwing  her  hands  upwards,  as  though  to  shield  her- 
self from  some  impending  danger,  while  her  eyes  rolled  in 
frenzy,  and  her  whole  face  and  attitude  indicated  intense 
agony.  "And  then!  O  God!  it  sets  my  blood  on  fire,  and 
melts  the  very  marrow  in  my  bones  to  think  on  what  fol- 
lowed. Crash!  crash!  crash!  went  the  thunderbolts  of 
Heaven !  Sheets  of  fire  and  brimstone  descended  from  on 
high.  Solid  rocks  were  melted,  and  ran  down  the  streets 
like  water.  The  Jordan  was  dried  up,  and  its  very  bed 
turned  to  ashes.  Amidst  all  this — surrounded  by  the 
scorching  flames  and  the  terrific  thunders  of  an  angry  God', 
men  walked.  They  sought  death,  but  it  fled  from  them. 


144  SACRIFICE. 

They  prayed  for  oblivion/  only  to  feel  more  keenly  the  hor- 
rors which  were  upon  them.  All  the  day,  sheet  after  sheet 
of  sulphurous  flame  poured  down.  All  tKe  day  was  the 
avenging  voice  of  doom  roaring  about  us.  Did  I  say  for  a 
day?  O  God,  that  it  had  been  only  for  a  day!  Louder, 
fiercer  grew  the  reverberating  thunders — thicker,  faster, 
hotter  came  the  flames,  until  the  very  earth  itself  burned 
like  so  much  tinder  in  a  furnace.  Still  no  house,  no  stone 
of  the  city  was  destroyed.  Men  and  women  ran  from  place 
to  place,  crying,  begging,  praying  for  mercy,  but  too  late! 
The  dread  fiat  had  gone  forth,  and  the  sentence  must  be  ful- 
filled. As  the  earth  and  the  stones  burnt  out  from  under  us 
the  city  sank  slowly  down.  Oh,  the  horror — the  despair^ 
that  was  upon  us !  Now  our  sufferings  were  more  keen  than 
at  the  first  moment,  for  then  the  hope  of  death  was  before 
us.  For  six  days  this  continued.  All  the  while  we  were 
sinking,  slowly  sinking,  down,  down,  down  into  the  fathom- 
less abyss.  Then  the  mountains  burst  asunder,  and  the 
waters,  impregnated  with  the  essence  of  all  the  burnt 
matter,  came  in  upon  us." 

Almost  exhausted  she  seemed  as  this  terrible  picture  arose 
before  her  mental  vision.  She  was  pale  as  the  white  gar- 
ment she  wore,  and  she  seemed  as  though  about  to  fall. 
Instinctively  Hugh  sprung  to  her  assistance. 

1  'Thank  you,"  she  said,  motioning  him  gently  back; 
"but  it  is  decreed  that  I  shall  never  for  one  moment  lose 
consciousness;  therefore,  I  cannot  swoon.  Would  that  I 
could  drink  of  oblivious  waters — forget  the  past,  and  re- 
main unconscious  until  called  to  enjoy  the  presence  of  my 
Maker,  for  of  that  I  have  the  assurance  in  the  end.  Oh, 
how  slight  a  punishment  it  would  be  to  die,  if  death  meant 
only  oblivion.  But  when  God  breathes  into  our  nostrils  a. 
living  soul,  He  demands  that  it  shall  return  to  him  pure  and 
without  spot.  Every  sin  unrepented  of  in  the  time  allotted 
by  Him,  mast  have  its  full  measure  of  atonement.  My  sin 
was  disobeying  God's  will  in  this  one  instance,  and,  oh, 
how  I  have  suffered!  I  repented  me  not  until  the  fire  came, 


SODOM.  145 

— then  it  was  too  late.     Oh,  how  many  poor  souls  have  cried 
out  in  their  agony,  '  too  late — too  late! ' 5 

"  But  you  asked  me  for  the  story,"  and  she  resumed  her 
position  at  his  feet. 

' '  The  waters  came  in  upon  us,  filling  our  eyes,  ears  and 
mouth.     Each  one  of  us  seemed  paralyzed  in  the  position  in 
which  it  found  him.     The  body  was  as  dead;  but  imprisoned 
within  that  shell  was  the  living,  conscious  soul.     And  thus  it 
has  been  for  the  centuries  past.     In  our  ears  forever  sounds 
the  dull,  heavy  swish,  swish  of  these  merciless  waters,  as  they 
wash  around  us,  and  against  the  walls  of  our  homes.     In  our 
mouths  and  nostrils  is  ever  the  bitterness  and  stench  which 
has  been  poured  into  them  by  an  offended  Deity.     Through 
these  avenues  of  sight,  which  we  are  never  for  one  moment 
permitted  to  close,  do  we  behold  the  staring  dead  faces  of  our 
companions,  with  all  the  horror,  all  the  despair,  all  the  pain 
of  which  the  human   soul  could   be    conscious    imprinted 
thereon.     Thinkest  thou  of  the  horror  of  being  chained  for 
centuries   to   thine   own  dead  body  in  the   bottom   of  the 
fathomless    sea,    with  cold,    clammy,    dead   hands    forever 
caressing  thee,  touching  thee  on  cheek,  lip  and  brow;  the 
dead  bodies  floating  around  thee,  and  their  dull,  staring  eyes 
peering  into  thine.     And  thus  it  is   forever.     No  rest,  no 
sleep,  no  moment  of  forgetfulness,  but  one  endless  stretch 
of  misery.     Oh,  what  a  fearful  thing  is  sin,  and  how  terrible 
its  punishment!" 

"But  about  the  rising  of  the  city,"  said  Hugh;  "you 
have  not  told  me  about  that  yet." 

"  The  city,  as  the  angel  predicted,  rises,  with  all  that  is  in 
it,  once  a  year,  and  remains  on  the  surface  for  the  space  of 
twelve  hours.  When  that  time  expires,  then  again  is  all  the 
agony  and  terror  of  the  burial  under  the  waters,  there  to  sit 
and  fondle  with  your  own  dead  body  for  another  seemingly 
interminable  year." 

Hugh  was  deeply  moved  by  this  recital.     The  vision  in 

the  ruins  of  Babylon,  which  had  seemed  to  him  even  then 
10 


146  SACRIFICE. 

to  be  more  than  a  mere  dream,  flashed  across  his  mind. 
Again  he  questioned  his  shrinking  soul:  "Am  I  called  upon 
to  redeem  this  people  ?"  It  began  to  appear  to  him  that  all 
the  events  of  the  last  few  weeks  had  been  leading  up  to 
this  point.  Completely  appalled  at  the  thought  of  such  a 
sacrifice,  he  bowed  his  head  a  moment  in  silent  prayer. 
When  again  he  raised  it  a  look  of  firm  resolution  had  over- 
spread his  features,  and  he  said : 

"Lady,  if  it  so  pleases  my  God  and  thine,  to  call  me 
to  this  work,  I  will  not  shrink  from  the  awful  sacri- 
fice. Should  the  signet  come  to  me,  so  that  I  may  know 
that  I  have  it,  I  will  return  in  a  year,  prepared  to  do  the 
will  of  God  in  this  thing." 

Falling  prostrate  upon  her  face  at  his  feet,  she  seemed 
overcome  at  the  magnanimity  of  this  resolution.  Then  rais- 
ing her  hands  and  eyes  toward  heaven  in  supplication,  while 
her  lovely  face  was  illumined  with  a  look  of  holy  charity,  she 
prayed:  "Oh,  that  this  torture  may  be  light!  May  I,  O 
Lord,  thy  unworthy  servant,  descend,  in  his  stead,  into  the 
depths  of  hell.  Let  this  punishment  fall  upon  me,  who  hast 
murmured  at  thy  righteous  judgment,  and  not  upon  him." 
And  as  her  lips  continued  to  move  in  silent  prayer  for  some 
moments  loager,  the  varying  expressions  of  her  face  were 
indeed  angelic.  When  she  had  again  risen  to  her  feet,  she 
said  to  Hugh : 

"Oh,  how  sinful  have  I  been  in  complaining  of  my  lot  ! 
I  am  not  deserving  of  the  mercy  of  my  God.  How  can  I, 
who  have  been  so  impatient  under  the  rod,  dare  to  hope  to 
enjoy  His  Kingdom  forever  and  forever  ?  He  may  seem- 
ingly require  much  of  us,  but  His  power  to  reward  is  unlim- 
ited. If  I  only  should  be  found  worthy  to  enter  just 
within  those  heavenly  portals,  I  would  be  content  to  wash, 
for  all  eternity,  the  weary-worn  feet  of  the  pilgrims  who 
enter  therein.  And  in  that  humble  task  I  should  be  so 
happy— oh,  so  happy!" 


CHAPTER  XVil. 

44 

clepsydra  pointeth  to  the  sixth  hour,"  said  Sara. 

Come,   and  I  will  conduct  thee  to  the  presence 
of  the  King." 

Passing  through  the  hall  down  the  long  flight  of 
stairs   and  out   through   the   open   doorway,    Hugh 
found  himself  once  more  in  the  street.     Clasping  his  hand, 
the  same  as  before,  Sara  led  him  on. 

"  How  many  inhabitants  has  this  city?"  he  asked. 

"About  thirty  thousand,"  was  the  reply. 

"And  the  people  seem  to  be  as  busily  engaged  in  the  every- 
day affairs  of  life,"  he  said,  "as  though  a  few  hours  more 
would  not  find  them  again  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea.  I 
should  think  that,  with  the  knowledge  of  the  fate  which  cer- 
tainly awaits  them,  these  few  short  hours  would  be  spent  in 
weeping  and  bewailing  their  lot,  and  in  beseeching  the 
mercy  of  the  Most  High." 

"I  have  thought  of  that  myself,"  said  Sara,  "and  then 
memory  would  carry  me  back  to  the  time  when  children 
were  born  and  men  died,  and  when  the  certainty  of  the 
grave  was  before  them — and  I  have  wondered  how  they, 
having  all  theiif  faculties,  laboring  under  no  particular 
curse,  could  have  spent  the  short  time  allotted  them  on  this 
earth  in  rioting  and  debaucheries.  I  have  wondered  why 
no  more  thought  was  devoted  to  the  unknown  future — the 
great  eternity.  You  tell  me  that  the  earth  has  progressed 
in  wisdom  and  knowledge  in  the  last  four  thousand  years, 
and  perhaps  men  are  not  so  careless  now  about  such  things. 
Wisdom  and  knowledge  certainly  avail  but  little  if  they  ex- 
tend no  further  than  the  grave.  I  have  known  but  one  wise 
man,  and  he  was  Abraham." 

"I  acknowledge  the  force   of  the  rebuke,"  said    Hugh, 


148  SACRIFICE. 

"  The  people  of  this  age  do  not,  as  a  rule,  seem  to  remem- 
ber the  certainty  of  death,  or  the  brevity  of  life,  any  more 
than  they  did  in  Abraham's  time.  They  are  not  yet  as  wise 
as  he." 

Just  then  they  were  interrupted  by  a  crowd  of  small  chil- 
dren, who  were  attracted  by  the,  to  them,  singular  appear- 
ance of  Hugh.  They  all  greeted  Sara  with  the  utmost 
deference;  but,  child-like,  they  wanted  a  fair  view  of  the 
stranger.  Nor  were  the  children  the  only  curious  ones,  for 
men  and  women  quit  their  employment  to  gaze  at  the 
strangely-mated  pair. 

"These  children,"  said  Hugh,  "  certainly  have  committed 
no  sin.  Are  they,  too,  punished  for  the  sins  of  the  parents?" 

"They  who  were  not  old  enough  to  have  committed  sin 
became  unconscious  when  the  fire  came,  and  so  they  still 
remain,  when  under  the  sea.  They  simply  sleep.  It  is  the 
same  as  though  they  were  dead  and  were  waiting  for  the 
great  judgment  day." 

Hugh  then  threw  amongst  the  children  a  few  small  silver 
coins,  for  which  they  scrambled  with  loud  shouts  and  merry 
laughter,  and  those  who  were  fortunate  enough  to  get  them 
showed  their  delight  by  many  queer  antics  and  other  demon- 
strations of  pleasure.  Hugh  looked  on  with  an  amused 
smile,  thinking  how  little  difference  there  was  in  the  nature 
of  children,  of  whatsoever  age.  Even  older  persons,  at- 
tracted by  the  noisy  crowd,  stopped  to  look  at  the  curious 
coins  with  many  expressions  of  wonder. 

As  they  continued  on  their  way,  Hugh's  eyes  were  kept 
busily  engaged,  noting  every  object  which  he  passed.  Just 
before  them,  in  the  centre  of  the  street,  stood  a  very  large 
building,  through  which  extended,  from  one  end  to  the 
other,  an  avenue  for  passengers,  vehicles,  etc.  On  either 
side  of  this  vast  structure  the  houses  had  been  set  back, 
making  room  for  a  yet  wide  street. 

"This,"  said  Sara,  "is  the  grand  market-place  of  Sodom. 
Shall  we  walk  through  it,  or  take  the  street  to  one  side  ?" 


"SAVE  us  !"  149 

"  Let  us  go  through,  by  all  means,"  he  replied;  and  they 
entered  the  building. 

Here  were  tables,  laden  with  all  the  fruits  of  the  earth,  as 
fresh-looking  as  though  gathered  but  an  hour  before.  There 
were  flowers  upon  the  stands  which  seemed  yet  to  have  the 
dew  of  the  morning  upon  them,  and  their  fragrance  seemed 
to  fill  the  entire  building.  People  seemed  busy  buying  and 
selling — some  laying  in  large  stores,  and  others  small. 

"Are  these  things  just  as  they  were  thirty-eight  hundred 
years  ago  ?"  he  asked. 

"As  you  see  them  now,"  sadly  responded  Sara,  "they 
were  then." 

"Then  how  does  it  happen  that  these  people  can  carry 
away  whole  loads  and  still  the  stock  remain  un  diminished  ?" 

"Count  the  apples  on  that  plate,"  she  replied,  "and  pur- 
chase one  for  a  small  coin,  and  see  how  many  will  be  left." 

Approaching  the  woman  who  kept  the  stand,  Hugh  prof- 
fered a  small  coin  and  took  an  apple,  but  still  the  same  num- 
ber remained  on  the  plate. 

"Now  eat  it,"  said  Sara. 

He  attempted  to  bite  it,  but  his  teeth  closed  upon  nothing. 
Feeling  foolish,  he  tried  it  again,  with  no  better  success. 
This  was  the  prototype,  he  thought,  of  the  traditional  apple 
of  Sodom. 

* '  If  all  things  remain  as  they  were,  and  cannot  be  touched 
or  tasted,  how  is  it  that  the  water  you  gave  me  was  so  real, 
and  the  wine,  too,  was  the  finest  I  ever  tasted  ?" 

"I  do  not  understand  that,  myself,*'  she  said. 

"I  am  impelled  to  do  a  certain  thing,  and  the  result  is 
God's  providence.  A  portion  of  this  people's  punishment  is, 
that  they  shall  hunger  and  taste  not;  that  they  shall  thirst 
and  be  unable  to  drink.  I  am  only  more  favored  than  the 
rest,  in  that  I  do  not  try  to  do  either.  I  live  on  and  on,  hun- 
gry and  thirsty,  accepting  all  as  a  just  chastisement  for  my 
sin.  You  were  allowed  the  favor  of  being  able  to  drink  what 
I  gave  you,  for  you  needed  it.  This  experiment  with  the 


150 


SACEIFICE. 


apple,  being  simply  to  gratify  curiosity,  you  were  not  per- 
mitted to  eat." 

When  nearing  the  farther  extremity  of  the  market,  Hugh 
saw  on  one  side  a  group  of  men  engaged  in  gaming.  They 
seemed  as  much  interested  in  the  "proceedings  as  the  like 
number  of  San  Francisco  sports,  engaged  in  the  profitable 
and  elevating  game  of  "draw."  Their  game,  however, 
differed  somewhat  from  the  one  so  much  affected  by  our  own 
"  bloods."  One  would  throw  a  bundle  of  sticks,  and  another 
would  guess,  "odd  or  even."  Gold  coins  were  piled  up  and 
staked  on  the  issue,  and  one  would  have  thought,  sometimes, 
the  life  of  the  player  depended  on  his  success.  Hugh  began 
to  wonder  at  this;  but  remembering  the  rebuke  Sara's  words 
had  just  given  him,  as  she  compared  the  practices  of  these 
people  to  those  who  lived  and  breathed  upon  the  earth's 
surface,  he  said  nothing.  But  he  seemed  to  appreciate  more 
and  more  the  utter  folly  of  bartering  one's  eternity  for  the 
glittering  wealth  which  cannot  be  carried  beyond  the  grave. 

"How  stands  the  property  interest  at  each  rising  ?"  inquired 
Hugh  of  his  companion. 

"It  stands  just  as  it  did  when  the  city  sank.  Nothing  is 
lost — nothing  is  wasted.  Each  one  follows  the  occupation  he 
did  thirty-eight  hundred  years  ago.  The  King  gathers  his 
tribute  and  pays  it  to  his  officers  and  soldiers,  who  in  turn 
gamble  it  away,  or  spend  it  in  some  other  manner." 

"  Could  I  touch  these  people — feel  that  they  are  flesh  and 
blood,  or  would  they  vanish  at  the  effort  like  the  apple  ?" 

"I  do  not  know  about  the  others,  but  you  can  feel  me, 
can  you  not?"  she  replied,  with  a  smile.  "I  am  one  of 
them." 

"Yes,"  he  replied;  "your  hand  feels  as  warm  and  your 
pulse  beats  as  high  as  those  of  any  mortal  I  ever  saw." 

All  this  time  they  were  hurrying  along  through  the  market 
place;  but  Hugh,  looking  back,  saw  that  a  crowd  had  gathered 
around  to  examine  the  coin  which  he  had  left  for  the  apple, 
and  he  made  some  remark  concerning  this  to  Sara. 

"That,"  she  said,   "may  be  to  them  a  something  real — 


11  SAVE  US  !"  151 

something  which  they  can  handle  and  carry  about  with  them. 
The  curse  is  not  attached  to  that." 

"  I  am  not  so  certain,"  said  Hugh,  "  that  the  curse  of  God 
is  not  attached  to  all  money." 

"  Unless  applied  to  some  good  purpose,"  added  Sara. 

As  they  walked  along  they  could  observe  wickedness,  with- 
out any  attempt  at  concealment,  and  Hugh  said  to  Sara : 

"Has  there  never  been  any  repentance  among  these  poor 
creatures  for  their  sins  ?" 

"  Repentance, "  repeated  Sara;  "  yes,  there  has  been  repen- 
tance, deep  and  heartfelt;  but  they  must  continue  on  in  these 
sins,  hating  them  as  they  do  from  the  depths  of  their  souls, 
as  a  part  of  their  punishment." 

Occasionally  a  rabble  would  collect  around  them,  and  the 
cry  of  "  a  stranger,  a  stranger !"  be  raised,  and  the  demand 
that  he  be  delivered  over  to  them;  but  one  wave  from  Sara's 
hand  would  quiet  all.  Her  purity  and  beauty  had  seemingly 
made  her  the  queen,  to  whom  all  bowed  in  humble  submis- 
sion. 

Sara  led  him  on  unmolested  till  they  had  reached  a  public 
square,  in  which  was  the  King  drilling  his  soldiers.  At  the 
sight  of  Hugh  ho  stopped  short,  and  then  came  to  meet 
them. 

"  What  stranger  bringest  thou,  Sara,  to  our  presence?"  he 
asked. 

"O  great  King!"  said  she,  making  a  lowly  obeisance, 
"this  is  a  stranger  thrown  by  accident  into  our  city.  We 
have  great  service  to  ask  of  some  one,  and  he  is  inclined  to 
serve  us." 

* '  Thou  hast  told  us,  O  Sara,  what  the  angel  of  the  Lord 
said  unto  thee,  and  we  have  waited  long  for  its  fulfilment. 
What  becamest  of  the  other  stranger  thou  didst  bring  into 
our  presence  ?" 

"  O  great  King!  He  did  fall  down  and  worship  even  me, 
thy  handmaiden,  and  that  human  love  left  no  room  in  his 
heart  for  the  divine  charity,  which  would  have  saved  us,  and 
have  won  him  an  immortal  crown.  His  poor,  weak  soul 


152  SACRIFICE. 

shrunk  back  affrighted,  as  I  pictured  to  him  the  awful  sacri- 
fice by  which  we  were  to  be  redeemed,  and  he  returned 
whence  he  came.  O  King!  we  have  sinned,  and  not  yet  is 
our  atonement  complete.  Still  must  we  suffer." 

"But  Sara,"  said  the  King,  with  somewhat  of  impatience 
in  his  tone,  "  why  dost  thou  so  often  disturb  our  pleasures  by 
reminding  us  of  the  terrible  future  ?  Why  not  let  us  enjoy 
life  while  we  can  ?" 

Hugh  thought  this  sentiment  quite  a  familiar  one. 

Turning  to  him,  the  King  said:  "From  whence  comest 
thou?" 

"I  came,"  answered  Hugh,  "from  a  newly-found  land. 
It  was  discovered  many  hundred  years  after  your  city  sank 
under  these  dark  waters." 

"  Then  only  the  cities  round  about  us  here  were  scathed 
by  those  frightful  flames;  and  there  is  another  land,  new  and 
beautiful,  like  Sodom  was  ?  I  have  told  Sara  as  much." 

"A  small  territory  only  was  destroyed  by  the  fire,"  said 
Hugh.  "In  the  other  portions  of  the  world,  the  people  have 
continued  in  the  same  old  routine  of  marrying  and  giving  in 
marriage — of  increasing  and  replenishing  tl^e  earth." 

"  But,"  eagerly  questioned  the  King,  "  can  they  die?" 

"Yes,  they  die,"  replied  Hugh.  "And  with  them  the 
great  struggle  is  to  live." 

"The  fools!  the  fools!"  exclaimed  the  King. 

"But  tell  me,  dost  know  what  became  of  mine  old 
neighbor,  Abraham  ?  And  mine  enemies,  the  Elamites  ?"  - 

"  The  Elamites,"  returned  Hugh,  "  are  no  more;  but  the 
seed  of  Abraham  filleth  the  earth." 

"  The  God  of  Abraham  is  indeed  a  just  God.  He  re- 
wardeth  the  good  and  chastiseth  us,  the  wicked  ones." 

At  his  request,  Hugh  gave  him  a  glance  at  the  history  of 
the  world  since  the  desolation  of  Sodom.  He  told  him  of 
the  invention  of  steam,  of  the  printing  press,  of  the  tele- 
graph, and  of  other  discoveries  which  have  had  such  a 
wonderful  effect  on  civilization. 

"Then,"  said  the  King,  "they  are  getting  too  wise  and 


"  SAVE  us!"  153 

too  rich.  Sodom  had  advanced  in  learning  beyond  all  the 
other  cities,  and  she  was  the  richest  and  most  prosperous  of 
them  all.  Biches  and  knowledge  are  like  fire  and  water — 
good  when  used  as  servants,  but  destructive  when  they  be- 
come the  masters." 

The  King  then  dispersed  his  troops,  and  turning  to  Hugh 
and  Sara,  he  said: 

"Thou  shalt  banquet  with  us.  Come,  let  us  eat,  drink 
and  be  merry,  for  the  time  we  have  is  short." 

They  accompanied  the  King  to  the  palace,  and  there  they 
were  shown  into  a  large  banqueting  hall.  The  tables  were 
spread  with  fine  linen,  white  as  snow,  and  all  the  vessels 
were  of  gold  or  silver.  There  were  the  finest  fruits  in  pro- 
fusion, wines,  and  everything  which  the  ingenuity  of  man 
could  desire  to  titillate  the  epicurean  palate.  Numerous  at- 
tendants were  in  waiting,  who,  dextrously  in  appearance, 
supplied  every  want.  Hugh  himself  was  beginning  to  feel 
the  cravings  of  an  unsatisfied  appetite,  and  thought  that  he 
could  relish  a  meal,  even  with  the  Sodomites — that  is,  if  the 
good  things  before  him  did  not  vanish  when  he  attempted  to 
partake  of  them,  as  did  the  apple. 

The  King  had  taken  his  place  on  the  dais  at  the  upper  end 
of  the  dining  hall.  Here,  with  Hugh  and  Sara  on  his  right, 
he  gave  the  signal  for  the  banquet  to  proceed. 

"First,"  he  said,  "let  us  pledge,  in  some  of  our  old 
friend  Abraham's  vintage,  the  health  of  the  stranger."  Then, 
raising  his  goblet,  which  had  been  filled  by  the  obsequious 
attendant,  to  his  lips,  he  seemed  to  drink,  as  did  all  the 
assembled  company.  Hugh  bowed  in  response  to  the  toast, 
and  attempted  to  drink.  The  wine  seemingly  flowed  into 
his  mouth,  but  there  was  neither  taste  nor  substance  to  it. 
He  looked,  curiously,  into  his  cup,  and,  in  appearance,  it 
was  filled  with  the  richest  of  golden  wines.  He  turned  it 
bottom  upwards,  and  the  liquid  poured  out  upon  the  floor- 
The  watchful  attendant  replenished  his  cup,  and  again  he 
essayed  to  drink,  but  with  no  better  success  than  at  first. 
Then  he  turned  his  attention  to  the  more  substantial  appear- 


154  SACEIFICE. 

ing  viands  before  him ;  but  they,  too,  like  earthly  pleasures, 
were  but  shadows,  mocking  his  desire  with  the  appearance 
of  reality.  Sara  and  the  King  had  watched  his  efforts  with 
intense  interest,  and  the  latter  now  spoke : 

"O  stranger!  Dost  now  know  what  it  is  to  hunger  and 
thirst — with  all  that  is  delicious  and  enjoyable  within  thy 
reach — and  never  be  sated  ?" 

The  company  appeared  to  be  in  the  most  exuberant 
spirits,  and  soon  the  revelry  ran  high .  At  the  command  of 
the  King,  a  hundred  beautiful  young  women  were  brought 
out  to  sing  and  dance  for  their  amusement.  Sara's  face  was 
overshadowed  by  sadness  and  her  eyes  were  cast  modestly 
upon  the  ground,  for  the  performances  were  lewd  in  the 
extreme. 

"Poor  creatures,"  she  said  aside  to  Hugh.  "They  can- 
not help  what  they  do.  Every  year,  since  the  curse  came 
upon  us,  have  they  gone  through  all  this.  They  know  its 
sinfulness,  and  remorse  is  tugging  at  their  heartstrings,  yet 
must  they  go  on.  It  was  once  their  pleasure,  now  it  is  their 
punishment.  We  have  no  longer  any  free  agency.  An  in- 
visible power  directs  our  motions,  and  we  must  all  do  as  we 
did  before  that  awful  day.  The  entrance  of  a  stranger  is  the 
only  thing  that  breaks  the  monotony  of  each  succeeding 
year,  and  that  has  happened  but  once  before." 

"  And  that  once  I  have  heard  of,  before  I  came  here,"  said 
Hugh.  "  It  was  one  cause  of  my  coming." 

"  Then,  after  all,  his  coming  was  not  in  vain,"  said  Sara, 
confidently. 

"That  remains  yet  to  be  seen,"  replied  Hugh.  "But 
would  you  like  to  know  his  fate  ?" 

"  Oh,  tell  me!  Did  anything  befall  him  on  account  of  his 
visit  here  ?" 

"  No,  I  think  not.  He  was  attacked  by  a  band  of  robbers 
and  mortally  wounded.  In  his  last  moments  he  told  of  his 
visit  to  Sodom;  but  all  who  heard  him  thought  it  simply  the 
ravings  of  delirium.  He  died,  and  his  body  was  sent  to  his 
own  country." 


"SAVE  us!" 

' '  And  his  soul, "  said  Sara,  ' '  may  Heaven  pity  its  weak- 
nesses, and  give  it  eternal  rest!" 

At  this  moment  a  low,  rumbling  sound  was  heard,  a& 
though  of  distant  thunder.  Instantly  each  reveller  ceased 
his  gayety,  and,  starting  to  his  feet,  remained  as  though 
transfixed  with  terror.  Motionless  and  breathless  as  statues 
stood  that  assemblage;  but  oh,  the  fear,  the  horror,  the 
dread  which  was  depicted  in  each  face  was  terrible  to  be- 
hold. Hugh  looked  at  Sara.  She  stood  white  and  rigid  as 
marble.  Her  heart  had  seemingly  ceased  its  pulsations. 
Her  arms  hung  listlessly  by  her  side,  and  her  eyes,  upturned 
toward  heaven,  seemed  fixed  in  their  sockets,  while  upon 
her  fair  brow  stood  the  cold,  clammy  dew  of  agony.  He 
would  have  spoken  to  her,  but  he  saw  that  she  was  engaged 
in  a  prayer,  deep  and  holy,  though  the  pale  lips  were  silent 
as  the  dead.  He  turned  and  looked  out  upon  the  street,  and 
the  scene  there  seemed  but  a  reflex  of  the  one  within.  It 
was  an  awful,  a  sublime  silence.  It  was  the  eleventh  hour. 
This  horrible  stillness  was  becoming  unbearable  to  him,  and 
raising  his  hands  aloft,  he  poured  forth  a  prayer,  beseech- 
ing the  Almighty,  in  eloquent  and  fervent  tones,  to  spare 
that  people.  "And,  O  God!"  he  added,  "if  it  so  pleases 
Thee,  lay  this  yoke  upon  me.  I  offer  myself  to  Thee,  O 
Lord,  that  I  may  suffer  in  their  stead.  Purify  me,  that  I 
may  become  a  pleasing  sacrifice  in  thy  sight !" 

And  then,  full  of  the  overwhelming  terror  of  the  situation,, 
and  feeling  the  awful  import  of  his  prayer,  he  dropped  his 
chin  upon  his  bosom  and  became  as  motionless  as  the  rest. 
Again  came  that  dread,  rumbling  sound,  this  time  a  little 
nearer — and  half  an  hour  was  gone.  At  tfyis  Sara  rallied. 

"O  God!"  she  exclaimed,  "you  here  yet!  Fly!  fly  for 
your  life — for  your  soul's  salvation,  and  for  ours — fly !  Come, 
I  will  lead  you  to  the  gate!" 

Then  the  King  and  all  the  people  in  the  room  knelt  in 
supplication  to  him,  exclaiming,  in  tones  which  pierced  his 
heart  to  its  centre,  "Save  us — save  us!  O  stranger!  save 
us!" 


156  SACRIFICE. 

Sara  took  him  by  the  hand  and  they  rushed  into  the 
street.  All  followed.  Then  the  people  in  the  street  crowded 
around  them.  They  had  all  heard  of  the  angel's  words  to 
Sara,  and  now  they  seemed  to  be  seized  with  the  idea  that 
this  was  the  promised  Messenger.  He  raised  his  voice  and 
spoke  to  them,  and  its  clarion  tones  seemed  to  penetrate  to 
every  corner  of  the  city,  making  itself  heard  by  all.  He  told 
them  how  all  mankind  had  been  redeemed  from  sin  and 
death  by  the  precious  blood  of  the  Son  of  God,  and  that  all 
who  had  faith  in  Him  might  live  forever.  And  he  promised 
them,  if  it  so  pleased  the  Omnipotent  One,  he  would  return 
in  a  year  and  set  their  souls  free.  He  had  spoken  earnestly 
and  fast  for  full  ten  minutes,  when  Sara  exclaimed : 

"We  have  scarcely  time  to  reach  the  gate.  Open  a  way, 
people,  and  let  us  pass  through !" 

But  the  people  only  pressed  more  closely  on  them,  and 
wildly  exclaimed:  "Save  us!  Oh,  save  us!"  It  was  impos- 
sible to  force  a  passage  through  the  excited  mob,  and  thus 
Hugh  stood  powerless  to  help  himself,  when  with  a  loud 
crash  came  the  last  warning  sound — and  slowly  the  city 
began  to  sink.  Loud  wailings  rent  the  air.  Sara  still 
struggled  on  in  the  vain  effort  to  reach  the  gate  with  Hugh. 
Now  the  cruel  waters  crept  stealthily  in  to  claim  their  prey, 
and  louder  and  wilder  grew  the  lamentations  of  this  unhappy 
people. 

"O  my  God!"  exclaimed  Sara,  "I  am  afraid  he  cannot 
get  out.  He  will  go  down  with  us,  and  all  through  my 
fault — through  my  fault,  through  my  most  grievous  fault ! " 

The  waters  were  by  this  time  beginning  to  lift  Hugh  from 
his  feet;  but  the  rest  went  down,  down,  slowly  down.j 

"  Can  you  swim  ?"  asked  Sara,  as  the  waters  were  gradu- 
ally sweeping  over  her.  "  For  God's  sake  try  and  make  the 
shore;  it  is  not  far  off.  God  bless — ,"  and  here  her  fair 
,  golden  hair  went  under,  and  Hugh  floated  alone  on  the  sur- 
face of  the  dead,  silent  lake. 


CHAPTER  XVIII. 


A  SINGLE  HAIR. 

|N  account  of  the  extraordinary  severity  of  the  winds 
upon  the  sea,  Father  Dominic  was  exceedingly  uneasy 
about  the  safety  of  his  guest.  He  was  not  alone  in 
this  anxiety,  for  in  the  twp  short  months  in  which 
Hugh  had  sojourned  with  them,  his  many  noble  and 
generous  qualities  had  endeared  him  to  all  hearts,  and  that 
night  many  were  the  Paters  and  Aves  which  went  up,  in  his 
behalf,  from  within  the  gray  convent  walls.  Nor  was  this 
all,  for  Father  Dominic  begged  and  obtained  permission  to 
go  down  to  the  sea-shore,  taking  with  him  several  of  the 
monks,  and,  if  possible,  cross  over  and  search  for  their 
friend.  Accordingly,  long  before  daybreak,  they  were  on 
their  way,  across  ravine  and  cliff,  in  the  direction  of  Ain 
Jidy.  They  were  all  fast  walkers,  even  the  aged  Dominic, 
and  by  sunrise  they  had  reached  the  western  shore  of  the 
sea.  Hugh's  Arabs  had  not  returned  to  the  camp;  but  the 
large  boat  was  still  there,  having  sustained  but  very  slight 
damage  from  the  storm.  The  morning  was  clear  and  almost 
a  calm,  and,  for  that  place,  tolerably  pleasant.  A  few 
moments  sufficed  to  repair  the  boat,  when  four  of  the 
Fathers,  taking  the  oars,  while  Father  Dominic  sat  in  the 
stern  to  direct  their  course,  bent  themselves  with  a  hearty 
good-will  to  the  work  of  rowing  the  boat  across  the  sea.  It 
is  not  over  six  miles  from  Ain  Jidy  across  to  Point  Costigan, 
and,  as  Hugh  had  told  Father  Dominic  of  his  intention  of 
visiting  that  desolate  promontory,  the  boat's  head  was  turned 
immediately  in  that  direction.  Frequently  would  the  old 
monk,  raising  his  field-glass  to  his  eyes,  anxiously  survey 
the  opposite  shore,  to  see  if  he  could  discover  some  sign  of 
our  hero.  But  each  time  was  the  glass  dropped  with  a  sigh, 
and  each  time  was  a  more  fervent  prayer  murmured  for  the 


158  SACRIFICE. 

safety  of  his  young  friend.  When  within  a  couple  of  miles 
of  the  eastern  side  he  could  discern  the  small  boat  high  and 
dry  upon  the  sands,  and ,  as  they  glided  rapidly  along,  he 
soon  saw  the  figure  of  a  man  walking  near  by  it. 

"Thank  Heaven!"  exclaimed  the  good  old  monk.  " He  is 
safe,  for  I  see  him  walking  on  the  shore." 

As  they  approached  nearer,  however,  he  remarked  that 
this  person  was  smaller  in  stature  than  he  whom  they  were 
seeking.  Gazing  more  intently  on  the  scene,  he  said : 

' '  The  man  walks  up  to  some  one  lying  on  the  ground,  and 
raises  his  head.  That  person  must  be  our  friend.  Bend  to 
your  oars,  my  brothers,  and  strike  quickly,"  he  exclaimed, 
excitedly;  "  for  a  moment  lost  now  may  be  his  life." 

The  oarsmen  threw  all  their  strength  into  their  work,  and 
although  the  ' '  Victoria  "  was  never  calculated  to  be  rowed  by 
less  than  eight  men,  yet  under  the  energetic  strokes  of  the 
four  willing  monks,  she  sped  over  the  waters  like  a  bird, 
and  in  a  few  minutes  more  the  staunch  little  craft  had 
touched  the  shore.  Father  Dominic  hurriedly  landed,  and, 
followed  by  his  brother  monks,  rushed  excitedly  up  to  the 
.spot  where,  as  his  anxious  misgivings  had  truly  told  him} 
lay  the  prostrate  form  of  Hugh  Ashby.  The  other  was 
Isaac,  the  Jew. 

"Js  he  dead?"  anxiously  inquired  the  monk  of  Isaac. 

"  I  dinks  not,"  returned  the  Jew,  "but  dere  is  no  pulse. 
I  pours  some  vine  in  his  mouth,  but  he  no  svallow  him." 

Water  was  brought  from  the  boat,  and  after  washing  off 
the  incrustations  of  salt  from  his  person,  they  bathed  his 
head  and  breast  with  spirits,  which  the  forethought  of  the 
energetic  Dominic  had  brought  along,  and  rubbed  him 
briskly  with  their  hands. 

"He  lives!"  exclaimed  the  old  monk,  as,  holding  Hugh's 
wrist  in  his  fingers,  he  detected  a  faint  beating  of  the  pulse. 

"  He  bees  all  right  now  very  soon,"  said  Isaac.  "  He  von 
.strong  mans." 

They  soon  had  the  satisfaction  of  seeing  him  .breathe  once 


A   SINGLE  HAIR.  159 

more,  and,  on  being  raised  to  a  sitting  posture,  he  looked 
around  and  recognized  each  one.  x 

"  How  came  you  all  here  ?"  were  his  first  words. 

"That  we  will  tell  you  after  a  while,"  said  Father 
Dominic,  "but  now  you  must  take  some  nourishment,  to 
strengthen  you  enough  to  be  carried  home."  Hugh  looked 
strangely  around,  and  glancing  downward,  he  saw  that  he 
was  in  his  stocking  feet,  and  that  near  by  lay  his  boots. 

' '  I  thought  I  had  left  my  boots  there, "  he  said,  with  a 
puzzled  look,  "and  that  when  I  floated  out  I  still  had  on  the 
sandals  which  she  put  on  my  feet."  And  his  eyes  wandered 
around  until  they  fell  upon  some  silver  coin  lying  on  the 
ground  beside  him. 

"  Whose  money  is  that?"  he  asked. 

"It  belongs  to  Meester  Ashby,"  replied  Isaac. 

"That  cannot  be,"  returned  Hugh,  "for  I  threw  all  the 
silver  coins  I  had  in  my  pockets  to  the  children  of  the  city." 

"Poor  man!"  said  Father  Dominic;  "his  mind  wanders. 
Take  him  up  gently  and  carry  him  to  the  *  Victoria.'  We 
will  have  to  take  the  small  boat  in  tow  across  the  sea,  and 
thence  up  to  the  Wady-en-Nar.  There  we  will  contrive 
some  kind  of  a  litter  and  carry  him  home." 

With  careful  hands  they  lifted  him  into  the  boat,  and,  as 
by  this  time  a  fair  breeze  had  sprung  up,  they  prepared  to 
set  sail.  Isaac  did  not  accept  their  invitation  to  accompany 
them,  but  alleged,  as  an  excuse,  that  he  had  business  on  this 
side  of  the  sea.  As  he  was  about  to  depart  in  another  direc- 
tion, Hugh,  rising  feebly  up,  said  to  him : 

"Isaac,  you  must  be  my  guardian  angel,  for  you  always 
appear  when  I  sorely  need  your  help.  I  hope  we  shall  soon 
meet  again. "  And  he  extended  his  hand,  which  the  old  Jew 
grasped  warmly,  and,  pressing  his  white-bearded  lips  upon 
it,  exclaimed,  with  seeming  emotion: 

"Yes,  Meester  Ashby,  ve  shall  meet  again."  Then, 
abruptly  dropping  the  hand,  he  turned  away  and  bent  his 
steps  in  the  direction  of  the  interior. 

"A  queer  old  Jew,  that,"  remarked  Father  Dominic,  as 


160  SACRIFICE. 

the  * 'Victoria  "  began  to  move  over  the  dark,  heavy  waters. 
"I  am  now  an  old  man;  and  when  I  was  young,  he  was  old 
Isaac  then — and  he  is  old  Isaac  yet,  with  no  change  what- 
ever in  his  appearance.  Sometimes  he  remains  around  here 
for  months,  and  then  again  he  is  off  to  other  countries.  He 
has  traveled  much,  and  his  mind  is  stored  with  a  fund  of 
information  concerning  what  is  going  on  in  the  world,  and 
he  has  a  good  heart,  withal." 

"  Yes,"  said  Hugh,  rather  abstractedly,  "I  have  found  all 
that  out.  We  had  some  adventures  together  at  Hillah 
which  gives  him  a  prominent  place  in  my  memory.  I  will 
think  of  him  as  long  as  body  and  soul  hangs  together — and 
perhaps  longer.  Who  knows  but  we  may  be  good  friends  in 
the  other  world." 

Hugh  then  laid  his  head  wearily  back  into  Father 
Dominic's  lap,  closed  his  eyes,  and  was  lost  in  reflection, 
and  so  remained  in  that  semi-unconscious  state  which 
brings  so  vividly  before  the  imagination  the  scenes  of  the 
past.  The  panorama  of  his  whole  life  was  stretched  before 
his  mental  vision  as  vividly  as  though  conjured  by  the  arts 
of  some  magician.  Pictured  before  him  he  saw  even  the 
child  in  the  cradle,  with  his  mother,  a  noble,  lovely  woman 
long  since  dead,  leaning  over  him,  and  praying  from  the 
depths  of  her  maternal  heart  that  his  infant  feet  might  tread 
in  the  paths  of  righteousness.  And  Miriam  Howard  ?  He 
saw  her  as,  when  lifting  her  out  of  the  mud  on  the  way  to 
school,  she  looked  up  into  his  face,  with  a  loving  confidence 
in  her  deep,  gray  eyes.  Then  he  beheld  her  as  when,  devel- 
oped into  a  beautiful  womanhood,  the  delicate,  rosy  flush 
and  downcast  look  w^en  his  eyes  met  hers,  revealed  the  yet 
unspoken  love;  and  later  still,  as  she  stood  beside  him 
within  the  arbor,  with  the  roses  showering  their  fragrant 
petals  down  upon  them,  and  pledged  her  heart  and  hand  to 
him  forever.  These  reminiscences  were  accompanied  with 
feelings  of  mingled  pleasure  and  anguish — pleasure,  because 
of  themselves;  anguish,  because  of  the  terrible  future  which 
loomed  up  before  him.  Must  she,  too,  be  made  an  innocent 


A  SINGLE  HAlil.  161 

victim  in  this  sacrifice  ?  Must  her  young  life,  with  its  happy 
future  spread  out  before  it,  be  suddenly  blasted,  and  all  on 
account  of  him?  He  groaned  aloud  in  mental  agony;  and 
Father  Dominic,  thinking  him  in  physical  pain,  wet  his  head 
with  a  handkerchief  dipped  in  the  fresh  water  which  they 
carried  with  them  and  stroked  back  his  hair  as  affectionately 
as  he  would  have  done  for  a  child. 

"My  poor  boy  has  this  time  ventured  beyond  his 
strength,"  he  said. 

As  the  oarsmen  stopped  for  a  breathing  spell,  the  old 
monk  remarked : 

' '  I  am  getting  fanciful  in  my  old  age,  for  do  you  know 
that  sometimes  as  I  glide  over  these  waters  I  imagine  that  I 
ca'n  almost  see  the  fearful  writhings  of  the  God-cursed  peo- 
ple who  were  buried !  " 

Father  Dominic  had  thought  Hugh  inattentive  to  what 
was  passing  around;  but  at  this  remark  he  sprang  up  and 
excitedly  exclaimed: 

"  Where ?    Where  do  you  see  them?" 

"In  my  imagination,  my  son,"  answered  the  monk, 
"  nowhere  else." 

Hugh  looked  as  though  ashamed  of  his  excitement,  and 
resumed  his  former  attitude.  When  they  had  reached  the 
western  shore  at  Ain  Jidy  it  was  past  noon,  and  as  the  good 
monks  had  scarcely  broken  their  fast  in  the  morning,  they 
went  ashore  and  began  to  prepare  a  repast,  of  which  they  all 
sorely  felt  the  need. 

While  the  meal  was  being  prepared,  and  it  was  by  no 
means  elaborate,  Hugh  lay  upon  some  blankets  which  had 
been  spread  out  under  the  shadow  of  a  rock  for  him.  He 
was  entirely  conscious  of  all  that  was  going  on  around  him; 
but  talking  was  a  burden,  so  he  remained  quiet.  He  drank 
the  strong  black  coffee  which  had  been  prepared  for  him 
and  felt  much  revived.  By  this  time  the  breeze  had  changed 
to  the  south,  and,  re-entering  the  boat,  they  made  sail,  and 
very  soon  landed  at  the  Wady-en-Nar.  Here  they  experi- 
enced the  kind  forethought  of  the  Superior,  who  had  sent 

an  Arab  with  Hugh's  horse  to  meet  them.    Two  camels  were 
11 


162  SACRIFICE. 

also  here,  belonging  to  the  convent.  These  last  were  on 
their  return,  laden  with  provisions  from  up  the  river  Jordan. 

"I  think,"  said  Father  Dominic  to  Hugh,  "that  you  and 
I  had  better  take  one  of  these  animals  and  ride  home.  You 
are  still  too  weak,  I  fear,  to  maintain  your  seat  upon  the 
horse  over  the  rough  road  up  the  ravine." 

Hugh,  however,  preferred  to  try  his  horse,  and  the  others, 
removing  a  portion  of  the  load  from  the  camels,  mounted 
them  and  started  for  the  convent.  It  was  a  great  effort  for 
Hugh  to  keep  his  seat,  but  he  did  so  till  the  end  of  his  jour- 
ney, when  he  was  assisted  to  his  room. 

Notwithstanding  the  tender  care  with  which  he  was 
nursed,  and  the  consummate  medical  skill  of  the  monk 
Dominic,  it  was  several  weeks  before  Hugh  had  recovered 
his  former  strength.  In  the  meantime  a  letter  had  come  to 
him  from  Miriam  Howard,  giving  him  all  the  California 
news,  and  also  bearing,  testimony  of  her  great  love  for  him. 
As  he  would  read  it — and  he  read  it  many  times  over — a 
strong  impulse  would  seize  him  to  fly  to  her  side,  and  leave 
forever  that  accursed  country.  But  then  the  cries  of  "  Save 
us !  oh,  stranger,  save  us !"  rang  perpetually  in  his  ears,  and 
ho  could  not  forget  his  promise  to  that  doomed  people.  He 
would  tell  all  to  Father  Dominic,  and  seek  the  help  of  his 
wiser  judgment.  So,  at  the  first  opportunity,  the  whole 
story  was  related,  including  his  adventures  in  the  ruins  of 
Babylon. 

"  There  are  strange  coincidences,"  remarked  the  old  man, 
"in  the  lives  of  many  of  us,  and  things  will  happen  which 
will  puzzle  the  strongest  intellect  at  the  time,  but  for  which 
time  will  present  the  clearest  solution.  The  Christian,  my 
son,  has  but  to  remember  the  words  of  St.  John :  '  Let  not 
your  heart  be  troubled,  neither  let  it  be  afraid :  ye  believe 
in  God — believe  also  in  me.'  Think  well  on  these  words, 
and  you  will  find  much  consolation." 

"Nothing  supernatural  even  for  a  moment  entered  my 
mind,"  said  Hugh,  "until  the  last  night  in  Sodom.  But 
there  is  a  mystery  which  I  cannot  elucidate." 

"It  is  very  evident  to  me  that  you  had  a  fearful  dream, 


A  SINGLE  HAIR.  163 

caused  by  your  exhausted  condition,  and  the  expectation  of 
seeing  that  city  reflected  by  the  phosphorescent  light.  You 
say  that  the  woman  Sara  took  off  your  boots,  and  put  sandals 
on  your  feet  instead,  and  that  you  threw  all  the  silver  coins 
in  your  pockets  to  the  children  of  the  city,  except  the  one 
with  which  you  purchased  the  apple.  Now,  my  son,  when 
we  found  you,  your  boots  were  near  you,  and  the  coins  to  the 
exact  amount  which  you  say  you  had  in  your  pocket  lay 
scattered  all  around  you.  If  you  had  the  sandals  on  your 
feet,  and  if  your  money  had  been  missing,  then  there  might 
have  been  something  about  which  to  be  uneasy — something 
which  could  not  be  accounted  for  in  the  natural  order.  It  is 
a  fact,  however,  that  men  sometimes  have  visions,  from  the 
effects  of  which  it  often  takes  them  long  years  to  recover. 
The  mere  fact  of  your  trying  to  eat  and  drink,  without  being 
able  to  do  either,  is  the  very  strongest  evidence  of  a  dream. 
That,  you  know,  is  one  of  the  characteristics  of  visions." 

"I  have,"  said  Hugh,  "  two  evidences  of  the  reality  of  what 
I  saw.  One  is,  that  I  know  my  feet  were  terribly  blistered 
and  lacerated,  when  I  reached  the  point,  and  when  you  came 
to  me  there  were  but  few  marks  left." 

"That  I  can  account  for,"  said  the  father,  interrupting 
him.  "  Many  of  the  springs  around  the  sea  here,  while  hav- 
ing a  most  offensive  odor,  have  almost  a  miraculously  healing 
power.  Some  of  the  pools  in  which  you  stood  must  have 
contained  such  water,  I  am  sure." 

"  The  other,  continued  Hugh,  "is  not  so  easily  accounted 
for.  When  Sara  removed  my  boots  and  stockings  and  oiled 
my  feet,  she  wiped  them  with  her  hair,  and  then  replaced 
the  stockings  before  binding  on  the  sandals.  Now,  I  found  in 
one  of  them  a  single  golden  hair,  about  two  feet  long,  and 
here  it  is."  And  unfolding  a  tiny  paper,  which  he  had  taken 
from  his  breast-pocket,  he  drew  forth  a  single  strand  of  hair, 
which,  as  suspended  from  his  outstretched  fingers,  and  curl- 
ing and  twisting  in  the  sunshiny  air,  looked  like  a  thread  of 
spun  gold.  Mysterious  hair!  Whence  came  it?  Was  it  in- 
deed a  link  connecting  the  supernatural  with  the  real — the 


164  SAOKIFICE. 

far  distant  past  with  the  present  ?    Thus  questioning  himself, 
Father  Dominic  took  it  into  his  hands  to  examine. 

"We  have  had  no  women  around  us  of  late,"  continued 
Hugh.  "Oar  washing  even  has  not  been  done  by  them;  and 
besides,  I  think,  Father,  that  it  would  be  a  difficult  thing, 
if  not  an  impossibility,  to  find  a  golden-haired  woman  in 
these  parts;  and,  besides,  it  is  exactly  of  the  color  which  my 
vision,  if  you  are  still  pleased  to  call  it,  gave  to  Sara's  hair.'' 
"I  will  not  pretend  to  account  for  it  now,"  said  the  Father, 
"but,  as  I  have  before  remarked,  sometimes  things  which 
perplex  us  much  for  a  while  become  simple,  seen  by  the  light 
of  some  undeveloped  fact." 

"I  have  an  intuition,"  said  Hugh,  "that  I  am  following  a 
destiny  marked  out  for  me  by  a  higher  power,  and  all  I  have 
to  do  is  to  be  brave,  and  true  to  the  dictates  of  the  inner 
spirit,  under  all  circumstances  remembering  the  words  you 
have  just  quoted  from  St.  John.  Whenever  the  temptation 
comes  urging  me  to  fly  from  this  place  as  from  some  danger- 
ous plague,  it  immediately  occurs  to  me  that  I  might  be 
deserting  some  work  of  God,  and  that  in  flight  I  would  carry 
with  me  the  consciousness  of  having  forever  left  behind  me 
manhood,  charity  and  religion." 

"If,  my  son,  you  were  certain  of  all  this — if  you  knew 
that  you  could  redeem  all  these  people  by  the  conditions  you 
have  named — would  you  do  it§?" 

After  a  moment's  pause,  Hugh  answered : 

"  With  the  help  of  God,  Father,  I  would."  And  the  look 
of  holy  resolution  which  overspread  his  finely-formed  features 
could  have  sprung  from  no  other  than  a  divine  inspiration. 

The  good  monk  looked  upon  his  young  friend  with  an  ad- 
miration blended  with  awe,  and  then  throwing  his  arms 
about  his  neck,  sobbed  and  wept  like  a  child. 

"God,  my  son,  will  give  thee  wisdom  to  act.  If,  in  follow- 
ing'4His  inspiration,  anything  should  befall  thee,  then  will  thy 
old  friend  spend  the  remainder  of  his  days  on  his  knees  pray- 
ing to  the  God  of  Justice  and  Mercy  that  thy  sufferings  may 
not  be  for  long,  so  that  when  he  is  called  hence,  thoumayest 
greet  him,  wearing  the  crown  of  victory." 


CHAPTER   XIX, 


THE    VOYAGE. 

CAVING  duly  made  up  their  minds  for  a  tour  through 
the  Old  World,  the  Howards  lost  no  time  in  making 
preparations  for  it.  Once  more  we  find  them  at  the 
breakfast  table.  Mrs.  Howard,  after  the  old  style, 
puts  the  cream  and  sugar  in  the  coffee,  and,  as  it  is 
being  passed  around,  Mr.  Howard  remarks : 

"  Well,  I  suppose  this  is  our  last  quiet  breakfast  at  home. 
I  have  gotten  all  my  business  matters  in  order  and  will  be 
ready  to  start  to-morrow  morning." 

"Miriam  and  I  are  ready,  too,"  said  Mrs.  Howard;  "our 
trunks  are  packed  and  our  last  calls  made." 

"Henry  is  ready,  of  course,"  remarked  his  father,  "as  he 
told  me  a  week  ago  that  he  had  all  his  business  properly 
arranged." 

"  I  am  afraid,"  said  the  individual  thus  spoken  of,  "  that 
I  shall  not  be  ready  at  that  time." 

"  Not  be  ready!"  echoed  the  three  in  one  voice. 

"  That  is  just  what  I  said." 

'  'And  pray  why  not  ?"  said  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Well,  those  confounded  dressmakers  can't  be  hurried 
up  a  bit."  • 

"Dressmakers!"  again  echoed  the  three. 

"Yes,  dressmakers!" 

Then  the  three  glanced  at  Henry  and  at  each  other,  and  a 
merry  twinkle  appeared  in  each  eye,  as  they  thought  they 
could  guess  something. 

"Explain,"  said  the  mother. 

"Well,"  said  Henry,  "I  thought  it  would  be  a  great 
piece  of  folly  for  us  four  green  ones,  who  have  scarcely  ever 
been  out  of  Santa  Clara  county,  to  undertake  to  make  such 
a  trip  as  the  one  we  propose,  without  some  more  experienced 


166  SACRIFICE. 

person  along;  and  I  therefore  set  about  finding  a  suitable 
one  to  act  as  guide,  and,  after  much  difficulty,  I  have 
secured  the  services  of  one  whom  I  know  you  will  all  like — 
one  who  has  just  been  over  the  ground." 

"  Agnes  Bonham!"  exclaimed  Miriam.  "  Oh,  Henry!  you 
naughty  boy!  I  have  a  notion  to  box  your  ears!  And  I  was 
over  there  just  last  evening,  telling  her  good-by,  and  kissing 
and  crying  and  all  that  sort  of  female  nonsense,  and  she 
never  hinted  that  she  was  going  along  as  one  of  the 
Howards!" 

"Yes,  I  was  there,"  said  Henry, .  in  a  teasing  tone. 
' '  When  you  cried,  she  cried  also,  out  of  sympathy,  and 
then  I  had  an  awful  time  of  it  kissing  the  tears  away." 

"  Yes,  it  were  very  much  against  the  grain,  I  know,"  said 
Miriam.  "  But  I  will  get  even  with  you  two,  yet;  see  if  I 
don't." 

"How  does  it  happen,"  asked  the  elder  Howard,  rather 
severely,  "that  after  this  family  has  grown  up,  each  relying 
on  the  advice  and  the  pleasure  of  the  others,  in  all  the  im- 
portant matters,  with  no  secrets  from  the  other,  that  so 
grave  a  step  is  taken  without  ever  asking  your  mother  and 
me  ?  It  was  not  thus  that  Miriam  did.  She  told  both  of 
us,  and  even  you,  Mr.  Henry,  that  she  thought  she  loved 
Hugh  Ashby,  even  before  he  had  asked  her  to  be  his  wife. 
She  talked  as  freely  about  the  whole  matter,  in  fact,  as  she 
could  have  done  with  a  companion  of  her  own  age  and  sex/' 

"Oh,  papa!"  exclaimed  Miriam,  "don't  scold  brother 
Henry,  for  he  has  captured  the  best  girl  in  the  world." 

"I  should  not,"  said  Henry,  seeing  that  his  father  really 
felt  hurt,  "have  taken  such  a  step  without  the  usual  family 
consultation,  if  I  had  proposed  to  marry  any  other  young 
lady  than  Miss  Bonham;  but  she  has  been  discussed  at  this 
table  ever  since  she  was  a  child,  and  the  universal  verdict 
has  been  that  she  was  unexceptionable  in  every  particular, 
and  as  you  all  loved  her  I  could  not  help  it." 

"  Oh,  don't  make  any  excuse  for  loving  Agnes!"  exclaimed 
Miriam.  "It  is  perfectly  splendid!  Sister  Agnes!  That 


THE  VOYAGE.  167 

sounds  good.  But  I  am  going  right  straight  over  there  to 
pull  her  hair,  and  hug  her,  and  scold  her,  and  kiss  her! 
Then,"  she  continued,  turning  to  her  father,  "  brother 
Henry  wanted  to  give  us  such  a  nice  surprise  about  our 
guide.  Oh,  I  am  delighted." 

"  Well,"  said  Mr.  Howard,  "  I  will  forgive  him  this  time, 
so  long  as  it  is  Agnes,  because  I  always  loved  the  mischiev- 
ous, rattled-brained  little  minx  myself.  She  will  give  life 
to  the  whole  party.  But  when  do  your  dressmakers  propose 
that  you  shall  be  ready  ?" 

"They  crave  only  one  more  day.  All  things  will  be 
ready  to-morrow,  and  in  the  evening  we  propose  to  have  a 
quiet  little  wedding,  and  be  off  on  the  early  train  the  next 
morning." 

The  quiet  wedding  took  place,  with  but  few  friends 
present,  and  next  morning  as  happy  a  party  as  ever  left  the 
State  of  California  bid  their  numerous  friends  adieu  at  the 
depot,  and  the  great  overland  train  hurried  them  forward. 

"  Our  party  is  not  exactly  as  it  should  be,"  said  Agnes: 
"but  we  will  try  to  have  it  so  before  we  come  back.  The 
fact  of  the  business  is,  we  have  too  many  Howards.  One 
less  would  make  us  all  happy,  wouldn't  it  Miriam  ?  Let's  see 
— where  are  we  apt  to  have  a  wedding  ?  Somewhere  in  the 
Turkish  Empire,  I  guess.  A  Turkish  wedding !  Kecorded 
in  the  Mohammedan  temple!  Won't  that  be  romantic, 
though  ?" 

"  One  more  would  complete  our  party,  and  make  me  the 
happiest  old  sinner  alive,"  said  Mr.  Howard.  "  But  Mr. 
Ashby  is  all  the  same  as  a  Howard.  I  have  loved  him  as  a 
son  for  many  years." 

"  No."  maintained  Agnes;  "  four  Howards  are  all  we  can 
stand.  I  had  a  notion  to  refuse  to  become  one  until  we 
could  at  the  same  time  dispose  of  one.  If  I  could  have  gone 
along  without  old  Madam  Grundy  poking  her  nose  into  the 
affair,  I  would  not  have  become  one,  either.  But  mamma 
has  such  a  dread  of  that  old  gossip  that  it  is  a  wonder  she 
is  alive." 


168  SACRIFICE. 

It  is  not  our  intention  to  follow  this  party  in  their  travels, 
nor  chronicle  the  many  pleasing  incidents  that  occurred. 
Agnes  was  all  life  and  gayety,  and  they  all  wondered  how  it 
would  have  been  possible  to  have  gotten  along  without  her. 
She  insisted  all  the  time,  that,  by  reason  of  her  •  larger 
experience  in  travel,  she  should  direct  their  movements ;  and 
one  thing  she  said  she  knew,  and  would  insist  upon,  was 
that  they  must  go  to  the  farther  end  of  the  route,  and  do 
the  sight-seeing  on  the  return. 

In  due  course  of  time  they  arrived  in  New  York  and  then 
at  Liverpool.  "Here,"  said  Agnes,  "we  must  take  a 
steamer  for  the  Mediterranean  ports,  as  soon  as  possible . 
Only  think !  Suppose  Russia  and  Turkey  should  come  to 
actual  blows !  The  whole  Turkish  Empire  would  then  be  in 
a  state  of  siege,  and  we  should  be  deprived  of  the  most 
pleasant  part  of  our  journey.  If  we  go  across  the  continent 
we  shall  be  sure  to  meet  with  detention." 

"fsuppose,"  said  the  elder  Howard,  "that  we  will  have 
to  follow  your  direction.  When  I  employ  a  doctor  I  take 
his  medicine." 

Accordingly,  when  they  found  that  the  steamer  "  Sardinia" 
was  to  sail  on  the  morrow  for  Cairo  direct,  they  congratu- 
lated themselves  on  their  good  luck  and  took  passage.  This 
gave  them  a  view  of  Lisbon,  at  which  they  landed;  of  the 
heights  of  Gibraltar,  at  which  the  vessel  stopped  to  leave 
some  stores^for  the  garrison,  and  of  several  Mediterranean 
seaports.  Besides  this,  the  coast  was  often  in  sight,  and  the 
party  spent  much  time  on  deck,  viewing  with  their  glasses 
the  coast  line.  The  voyage  had  been  one  of  the  most  pleas- 
ant the  officers  said  they  had  ever  made,  until,  when  in  the 
Grecian  Archipelago,  they  entered  a  dense  fog.  Slowly  the 
vessel,  under  command  of  skilful  officers,  felt  her  way  along 
Our  party  came  out  on  deck,  where  the  air  was  fresh,  though 
they  could  not  see  beyond  the  bulwarks  of  the  vessel. 

"Where  do  you  think  we  are  now  ?"  Henry  asked  of  the 
Captain,  who  was  on  watch  himself. 

"  We  are  about  abreast  of  Athens." 


THE  VOYAGE.  169 

"There  are  plenty  of  rocks  hereabout,  are  there  not?" 

"Yes,  there  are  some;  but  I  think  there  is  no  danger 
unless  we  are  drifting  more  than  I  think.  We  have  but  very 
little  steam  on — just  enough  to  manage  her,  and  we  have 
trusty  look-outs  at  every  quarter,  and  besides,  Mr.  Howard, 
we  have  boats  enough  to  carry  every  person  on  board;  so  I 
think  there  is  not  the  least  possible  danger. 

Miriam  turned  her  head  in  the  direction  of  the  forecastle 
and  grasped  Agnes'  arm  convulsively.  "  Look !"  she  whis- 
pered; "  quick!"  pointing  at  the  same  time  toward  the  bow. 

Agnes  looked,  but  saw  nothing,  and  she  asked  Miriam 
what  it  was  which  caused  her  so  much  agitation. 

"  My  old  Jew  peddler,  as  sure  as  I  am  here.  He  went 
down  the  forward  hatch;  I  will  find  him  presently." 

"  I  hope,'7  said  Agnes,  "  that  he  is  not  a  bird  of  ill-omen. 
To  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  not  been  exactly  easy  for  the 
last  several  days.  I  have  had  a  heavy  feeling  so  unusual  to 
me;  a  sort  of  presentiment,  as  it  were,  of  impending  danger. 
But  nonsense ! "  she  exclaimed,  as  she  saw  a  cloud  pass  over 
Miriam's  face;  and  she  felt  ashamed  of  her  weakness,  in 
giving  vent  to  such  feelings,  and  putting  her  arm  around 
Miriam's  waist,  she  continued :  ' '  Excuse  me,  dear  sister,  if  I 
unthinkingly  add  to  your  distress,  but  you  know  I  always 
talk  as  I  feel,  and  I  suppose  no  one  is  entirely  free  from 
spells  of  depression." 

"I  am  not  afraid  of  present  danger,"  replied  Miriam. 
"  Whatever  forebodings  are  presented  to  my  mind  are  con- 
nected with  Hugh  and  my  peddler  in  the  forecastle  yonder. 
Another  link  in  the  chain  may  be  in  process  of  forging,  but 
it  will  be  only  a  link.  The  end  is  not  yet.  The  presence  of 
that  old  Jew  here,  however,  puzzles  me;  but  I  am  content  to 
follow  the  hand  of  Destiny,  wherever  it  may  lead.  I  fear 
nothing.  Death  itself  has  no  terror  for  me,  and  the  only 
unhappiness  I  have  arises  from  the  possibility  of  those  I 
love  having  their  happiness  wrecked  because  connected  with 
me." 


170  SACBIFICE. 

Scarcely  had  she  finished  speaking,  when  the  vessel  struck 
heavily  upon  a  rock.  It  was  a  fearful  crash,  and  all  on 
board  became  conscious  of  the  fact  that  the  ship  had  been 
destroyed.  Following  the  crash  came  confusion,  shrieks 
and  lamentations,  mingled  with  the  hurried  commands  of 
the  officers,  who  realized  the  necessity  of  the  greatest  possi- 
ble dispatch  in  getting  the  passengers  into  the  boats.  Miriam 
was  unceremoniously  thrust  into  a  boat,  under  charge  of  the 
first  mate,  to  make  up  a  load .  This  was  the  first  boat  to 
leave  the  wreck,  and  they  had  not  gone  far  when  they  saw 
her  give  a  lurch  and  go  down. 

"  Not  another  boat  was  able  to  get  away!"  exclaimed  the 
mate,  "  and  they  are  all  lost!" 

Miriam's  anguish  was  intense  as  she  heard  this,  and  gladly 
would  she  have  given  up  her  own  life  to  have  rescued  her 
family.  While  each  of  the  passengers  and  crew  of  this  boat 
were  straining  their  eyes  to  see  if  they  could  detect  through 
the  fog  the  appearance  of  another  boat,  their  own  struck  a 
hidden  reef  and  was  instantly  dashed  to  pieces,  and  its  bur- 
den of  living  freight  cast  upon  the  bosom  of  the  ocean. 
Miriam  floated  for  a  time  upon  the  water,  felt  a  drowning 
sensation,  and  became  unconscious. 

Two  other  boats,  however,  had  been  successfully  launched, 
and  all  the  balance  of  our  party  were  in  the  boat  under  the 
direct  charge  of  the  captain.  These  boats  followed  in  the 
direction  of  the  others,  but  missed  the  reef.  They,  however, 
came  across  the  fragments  of  the  mate's  boat,  and  picked  up 
all  its  passengers,  the  mate  said,  except  Miriam  and  another. 
Notwithstanding  the  fact  that  these  boats  were  now  greatly 
overloaded,  the  captain  ordered  them  to  row  around  as  long 
as  a  bare  possibility  of  rescuing  Miriam  remained.  It  was  a 
fruitless  search,  and  as  the  boats  pulled  off  in  the  direction 
of  Athens,  which  was  supposed  to  be  the  nearest  port,  the 
agony  of  each  one  of  the  Howards  can  be  better  imagined 
than  described. 

All  hope  was  lost,  and  they  felt  that  they  were  deserting 
her  in  the  middle  of  the  ocean.     It  was  a  terrible  thing  for 


THE  VOYAGE.  171 

them  to  be  rowed  silently  away  from  where  the  loved  one 
went  down.  The  entire  boat-load  was  silent  for  some  time, 
each  occupant  feeling  for  the  bereaved  ones.  At  length 
Agnes  burst  forth : 

"  I  must  speak  or  I  will  die!  Captain,  can  you  give  us  no 
hope  ?  May  there  not  be  some  possibility  of  her  having 
been  saved  ?" 

"It  would  require  a  miracle,"  said  that  officer.  "No 
human  power  could  possibly  have  saved  her.  The  timbers 
of  the  wreck,  even,  were  floating  the  other  way.  We  are 
rowing  against  the  current." 

"I  tell  you,"  exclaimed  Agnes,  "that  she  has  not  been 
drowned.  I  cannot,  I  will  not  believe  it.  Her  old  Jew  was 
on  board,  and  he  would  have  saved  her." 

"There  was  an  old  Jew,"  said  the  mate,  "who  was  among 
the  rescued  in  my  boat,  who  came  on  board  at  Palermo,  and 
who  occupied  a  seat  just  behind  Miss  Howard." 

"  Saved!"  exclaimed  Agnes,  "  saved!  I  knew  she  would 
be  saved."  The  Captain  shook  his  head  and  thought  Agnes' 
mind  was  wandering.  Neither  did  Mr.  Howard  or  Henry 
put  the  least  faith  in  Agnes'  theory.  She  said  nothing 
more,  and  they  rowed  on  in  silence.  The  fog  cleared  up 
and  a  beautiful  sunshine  seemed  to  bid  them  be  of  good 
cheer,  and  they  each  thought  how  happy  they  would  be  if 
only  Miriam  could  be  at  their  side.  Without  any  further 
adventure  the  party  reached  Athens,  and  when  alone  at  the 
inn,  Agnes  renewed  her  protestations  of  faith  in  the  safety 
of  Miriam,  but  she  could  give  no  reason  that  would  have 
any  weight  whatever  with  either  of  the  others. 

"I  tell  you,"  she  said,  stamping  her  pretty  little  foot  on 
the  floor,  "I  will  not  leave  this  part  of  the  country  until 
every  town  and  every  nook  in  the  archipelago  and  the  sur- 
rounding country  has  been  searched — until  every  fisherman 
and  every  man  that  owns  a  boat  has  been  put  to  work  trying 
to  find  her,  by  the  largeness  of  the  reward.  I  have  a  small 
fortune, "  she  continued,  getting  more  emphatic,  ' '  in  my  own 


172  SACBIFICE. 

right,  and  I  will  offer  the  last  cent  of  it  for  Miriam,  if  it  is 
only  her  dead  body  that  we  find." 

The  bereaved  family  looked  at  Agnes  with  admiration. 
They  had  always  regarded  her  as  a  sweet,  volatile,  pure  girl, 
w  ho  could  ornament  society,  but  even  her  husband  did  not 
expect  to  find  in  her  one  to  take  command  when  grave  diffi- 
culties surrounded  them. 

"  Go,"  she  said  to  Henry,  "post  the  city  over;  send  a  boat 
across  to  Smyrna;  cover  the  rocks  and  the  walls,  offer  $25,000 
reward  for  her  body,  or  for  any  information  that  will  lead  to 
finding  her  if  alive.  Go,  you,  father,  and  place  this  sum  in 
the  hands  of  the  American  Consul,  to  be  paid  by  him  to 
the  one  who  wins  the  reward.  If  you  have  not  enough  with 
you,  telegraph  for  more.  Then  let  us  charter  one  of  the 
little  steamers  that  do  a  coasting  trade  around  here  and  go 
ourselves  on  the  search." 

"  We  will  do  all  that  Agnes  has  suggested,"  said  the  father. 
"  I  will  feel  much  better  myself  if  we  leave  no  stone  unturned 
to  find  her." 

The  small  steamer  was  chartered  and  the  party  embarked, 
having  first  offered  the  reward,  the  large  amount  of  which 
soon  sent  almost  every  craft  out  of  the  city  on  the  hunt. 
When  it  was  known  at  Smyrna  and  other  places,  hundreds 
started  out,  and  the  strictest  inquiry  was  made  everywhere. 
The  party  travelled  around  for  ten  days,  everywhere  sending 
out  more  men  on  the  search;  but  at  the  end  of  that  time  they 
returned  with  sad,  heavy  hearts,  to  Athens.  The  party  had 
lost  their  entire  wardrobe,  but  their  checks  and  letters  of 
credit  were  on  their  persons,  and,  besides,  Mr.  Howard  had 
had  a  large  sum  placed  to  his  credit  by  telegraph.  When 
they  got  back  to  Athens,  they  had  to  stay  several  days  to 
have  some  clothing  made.  Then  they  told  the  Consul  to 
keep  the  reward  standing,  and  to  constantly  put  the  people 
in  mind  of  it. 

"I  believe  yet,"  said  Agnes,  after  their  return  from  the 
fruitless  search,  "  that  Miriam  Howard  is  still  living." 


THE  VOYAGE.  173 

"On  what  grounds  do  you  base  your  belief?"  asked  her 
husband. 

"  Now  don't  go  to  cross-questioning'  me  like  a  witness  on 
the  stand,"  she  replied,  "  for  I  cannot  give  any  sensible  rea- 
son." 

"We  ought  to  write  to  Mr.  Ashby,"  said  Mr.  Howard; 
1 '  but  somehow  I  have  not  the  heart  for  the  task. " 

"Nor  have  I,"  said  Agnes;  and,  as  the  others  said  the 
same  thing,  the  writing  of  the  letter  was  postponed.  It  was 
now  resolved  to  go  home  by  the  most  direct  routes.  None 
of  them  had  any  heart  left  for  the  pleasures  of  travel.  The 
news  of  the  disaster  reached  their  friends  in  California 
almost  as  soon  as  it  happened,  for,  in  addition  to  private 
telegrams,  all  the  particulars  of  the  wreck,  together  with  a 
list  of  the  lost  and  the  saved,  had  been  telegraphed  from 
Athens  to  the  San  Francisco  papers. 


CHAPTER  XX. 


FROM  SMYRNA  TO  JERUSALEM. 

a  small  apartment,  by  no  means  elegantly  furnished, 
Miriam  Howard  opened  her  eyes  to  consciousness. 
The  sun  was  shining  brightly,  and  its  rays  streamed  in 
through  a  window  beside  which  she  lay.  She  looked 
around  in  bewilderment.  Everything  in  the  room  was 
faultlessly  clean,  although  plain .  No  one  was  near  her,  and 
all  was  quiet  as  the  grave.  At  first  she  could  recall  nothing, 
but  as  gradually  her  scattered  senses  began  to  return,  and 
reason  resume  its  sway,  the  scenes  of  the  wreck  flashed 
across  her  mental  vision.  The  words  of  the  mate,  declaring 
that  the  ship  had  gone  down  before  another  boat  could  be 
launched,  and  that  all  were  lost,  seemed,  even  then,  to  be 
ringing  in  her  ears,  and  pierced  her  heart  through  and 
through.  Then  the  memory  of  the  dreadful  dashing  of  their 
own  boat  upon  the  rocks  sent  a  thrill  of  horror  through  her 
frame;  but  she  could  remember  no  more.  No  trace  of  any 
rescue  was  in  her  mind.  Where  was  she  now  ?  The  looks 
of  everything  in  the  room  denoted  that  she  had  been  kindly 
cared  for.  She  raised  herself  on  her  elbow  and  looked 
through  the  window;  but  the  sight  of  a  dirty-looking  court, 
with  half  a  dozen  indolent  persons  of  mixed  nationality 
lounging  around,  was  her  only  reward.  She  judged,  how- 
ever, that  she  was  in  the  fourth  story  of  a  large  building. 

Presently  a  very  handsome  young  woman,  evidently  of 
Jewish  parentage,  entered  the  room,  and,  as  she  saw  Miriam 
reclining  upon  her  elbow  and  looking  at  her,  a  smile  of 
pleasure  came  across  her  face,  and  Miriam  saw  that  she  had 
at  least  fallen  among  friends.  She  spoke  to  the  girl,  both 
in  English  and  French,  but  the  ominous  shake  of  the  head 
and  the  puzzled  look  showed  she  was  not  understood.  The 
girl  came  up  to  her,  kissed  her,  and  made  every  demonstra- 


FROM  SYMBNA  TO  JERUSALEM.  175 

tion  of  pleasure  at  seeing  her  revived.  By  signs  the  girl 
asked  her  if  she  wanted  something  to  eat.  She  gave  an 
affirmative  nod,  and  once  more  she  was  left  to  her  own 
reflections. 

She  was  in  a  foreign  land,  among  strangers,  even  ignorant 
of  the  language  they  spoke,  and  without  money.  The  whole 
family,  she  felt  convinced,  had  been  lost  by  the  wreck. 
What  was  she  to  do  ?  Then  she  thought  of  Hugh.  Could 
she  not  manage  in  some  way  to  make  him  acquainted  with 
her  sore  distress.  No  satisfactory  conclusion,  could  be 
arrived  at;  but,  raising  herself  to  a  sitting  position,  she  ex- 
claimed half  aloud : 

"  I  am  here  among  strangers.  Difficulties  will  have  to  be 
met  and  overcome;  and  they  must  be  met  with  no  faltering 
hand." 

The  girl  soon  returned,  bringing  a  very  nice  breakfast, 
which  Miriam  ate  with  a  relish;  and  then,  feeling  stronger, 
she  made  a  sign  for  the  girl  to  bring  her  clothes.  At  this 
her  companion  looked  in  blank  despair,  but  brought  her  the 
tattered  remnants  of  what  she  had  on  when  wrecked,  and 
those  were  so  soiled  as  to  be  unfit  for  use  again.  She  saw 
that  the  loose  white  garment  she  had  on  was  of  foreign  cut. 
She  then  made  the  girl  understand  that  she  would  put  on 
some  of  her's;  and  to  this  there  was  a  cheerful  assent. 
When  she  began  to  dress,  however,  she  found  that  she  was 
very  weak;  and  before  the  simple  toilet  was  complete  she 
found  that  it  would  be  impossible  for  her  to  go  out  that  day. 
As  the  next  best  thing  to  be  done,  she  kept  up  a  conversa- 
tion, by  signs,  with  her  new-found  friend,  who  made  her 
understand  that  she  had  been  there  about  twenty  days.  No 
wonder,  then,  that  she  was  too  weak  to  walk. 

For  several  days  she  remained  in  the  room,  with  no  com- 
pany but  the  girl  she  had  first  seen.  In  fact,  she  saw  no 
other  human  face  except  that  of  the  girl  and  those  of  the 
loungers  in  the  court  below.  The  latter  were  neither  very 
interesting  nor  assuring  for  one  in  her  position.  She  could 
not  find  out  how  she  came  there,  nor  at  whose  expense  she 


176  SACRIFICE. 

was  being  cared  for.  It  was  evident  that  it  was  the  allotted 
part  of  the  beautiful  young  Jewess  to  see  to  her  comforts; 
but  whether  it  was  a  work  of  love  or  whether  she  had  been 
employed  by  some  one,  she  could  not  satisfactorily  deter- 
mine by  signs.  The  girl  was  very  fond  of  her,  and  this  gave 
her  some  consolation.  Each  day  she  walked  a  little  more  in 
the  room,  and  felt  in  excellent  health,  except  the  weakness. 

One  day  the  girl  brought  her  a  newspaper  printed  in  the 
French  language,  and  dated  two  or  three  days  after  the 
disaster,  in  which  was  an  account  of  the  finding  of  the 
wreck  of  the  '  'Sardinia"  by  another  vessel,  accompanied  with 
the  statement  that  all  had  perished.  When  she  had  read 
this  and  gave  to  understand  that  she  could  read  it,  the  latter 
expressed  much  gratification  at  having  been  of  such  service 
to  her.  Miriam  looked  at  the  head  of  the  paper  and  foun& 
that  it  was  printed  at  Smyrna,  and  her  companion  made  her 
understand  that  she  was  in  that  city.  It  gave  her  some  con- 
solation to  know  that  she  was  in  a  city  where  some  people 
resided  who  spoke  a  language  she  could  understand. 

Once  more  she  thought  of  trying  the  effect  of  a  walk  out 
of  doors,  and,  dressed  in  her  friend's  clothes,  which  she 
fancied  became  her  very  much,  she  and  her  companion 
descended  several  flights  of  stairs  and  emerged  into  a  dirty, 
narrow  street,  along  which  it  seemed  impossible  to  walk 
without  getting  tramped  under  the  feet  of  the  droves  of 
loaded  camels  going  along  it.  Her  friend,  however,  under- 
stood how  to  get  through,  for,  seizing  Miriam's  hand,  she  got 
alongside  of  a  huge  camel  going  the  way  she  desired  to  go, 
and  thus  protected  they  hurried  on  for  several  blocks,  when 
they  took  another  cross-street,  not  so  crowded  as  the  first, 
and  presently  came  to  the  river  Meles,  and  then  walked 
along  its  bank;  crossing  the  great  caravan  bridge,  they 
found  a  grassy  plot  and  sat  down  upon  it  to  rest  and  to  en- 
joy the  sight  of  the  great  troops  of  camels  coming  and  going. 
In  spite  of  all  her  troubles,  Miriam  was  interested  in  this 
scene,  so  new  to  her  in  all  its  aspects. 


FBOM  SYMENA  TO  JERUSALEM.  177 

A  great  caravan  was  approaching  the  city  from  the  inte- 
rior, and  high  upon  the  back  of  one  of  the  animals  she  dis- 
covered one  whom  she  had  seen  before — one  with  whom  she 
could  at  least  talk,  if  she  could  only  engage  his  attention; 
and,  moreover,  next  to  her  own  kin  or  her  lover,  he  was  the 
man  of  all  others  she  most  desired  to  see.  Wild  with  ex- 
citement, she  rushed  toward  the  approaching  caravan,  fol- 
lowed by  her  youthful  attendant.  Clear  on  up  to  the  side 
of  the  huge  camel,  on  which  satjthe  person  whom  she  sought, 
she  went  and  called  aloud : 

' '  My  friend,  I  have  seen  you  before.  I  am  here  desolate 
and  alone !  Pray  speak  to  me !" 

Her  companion  pulled  her  back  out  of  the  way  of  the 
feet  of  the  camels;  but  she  saw  that  she  had  been  recognized 
by  the  man  to  whom  she  had  spoken.  She  also  saw  that 
her  companion  recognized  in  him  an  acquaintance.  Just 
before  it  reached  the  bridge,  the  caravan  halted  and  the 
man  dismounted  and  came  towards  them.  Miriam  was  so 
glad  to  see  him  that  she  held  out  both  her  hands  to  greet 
him,  and  said: 

"  Don't  you  know  me  ?  I  have  been  hunting  for  you  for  a 
long  time." 

"  I  bees  very  glad  to  see  de  ladee." 

11  How  did  you  get  here?"  asked  Miriam.  • 

"De  Mees  knows  I  dells  her  I  haf  von  schildrens  at 
Smyrna." 

"  I  know  you  told  me  that,  and  you  told  me  of  one  Hugh 
Ashby.  I  want  to  know  more." 

"Ish  de  ladee  going  to  see  him?" 

"I  will,  perhaps,  if  I  can  get  to  him;  but  I  am  here, 
penniless  and  alone,  among  strangers.  This  young  woman 
has  been  very  kind  to  me,  but  I  know  not  who  she  is.  I  was 
shipwrecked,  and  all  my  family  perished.  That  is  the 
report;  and  I  know  they  did,  or  they  would  have  found  me 
before  this." 

"Den  I  can  bees  von  friend  to  de  ladee?    Lends  her 

leetle  monish  ?" 
12 


178  SACRIFICE. 

"  A  little  money  is  what  I  need  now.  You  know  that  my 
father  was  rich.  If  he  should  happen  to  be  living,  he  will 
pay  whatever  debts  I  may  contract;  and  if  they  are  all 
dead — "  Here  Miriam's  voice  failed  and  she  could  not  pro- 
ceed for  some  minutes.  "If  they  are  all  dead,  then  I  am 
the  only  heir  to  a  large  property.  So  I  can  make  you  safe 
in  any  event." 

"De  ladee  needs  not  dells  me  all  dat.  Meester  Ashby 
pays  me  all  dat  de  ladee  gits." 

"But  I  don't  want  to  go  to  Mr.  Ashby  for  it.  I  would 
rather  pay  double  as  much  myself." 

"Den  de  ladee  does  not  care  for  Meester  Ashby." 

"  Care  for  him?  I  do  not  blush  to  say  that  I  love  him; 
but  I  am  not  yet  his  wife,  and  I  do  not  care  to  draw  upon 
his  purse  if  I  can  manage  to  have  one  of  my  own." 

"  Dat  ish  all  right.     I  lets  her  haf  all  vot  she  vants." 

"Did  I  not  see  you  on  the  steamer  "Sardinia"  just  before 
the  wreck  ?  I  thought  I  caught  a  glimpse  of  you  once — a 
few  minutes  before  she  struck.  In  the  small  boat,  too,  I 
looked  back  once  and  thought  I  saw  you  on  the  seat  just 
behind  me." 

"  Vot  dimes  vas  dat  ? 

"According  to  the  signs  I  can  get  from  my  companion 
here,  it  w*as  about  three  weeks  ago." 

'•  Tree  veek  ?  O  mine  Got,  I  brooves  by  Meester  Ashby 
dot  he  sees  me  on  de  Dead  Sea  not  more  as  four  weeks  ago. 
I  could  not  been  dere  if  I  try.  I  gits  here  only  dis  days. 

"Then  act  as  interpreter  for  me,  and  ask  this  girl  how  she 
came  to  be  in  charge  of  me,  and  who  has  been  paying  for 
my  board  and  for  her  attendance." 

The  man,  in  whom  the  reader  will  readily  recognize 
Miriam's  peddler  and  Hugh  Ashby's  Isaac,  spoke  a  few 
words  to  the  girl,  and,  after  she  had  spoken,  he  said:  "She 
is  von  boor  girls  vot  vorks  for  de  monish;  und  von  day  von 
mans  cooms  along  and  hire  her  to  care  for  de  ladee.  She 
go.  Den  de  doctor  he  cooms  all  de  dimes  till  de  ladee  gits 
up;  den  he  cooms  no  more.  De  house  is  von  blace  vere  dey 


FROM  SYMBNA  TO  JERUSALEM.  179 

keeps  de  lodgin'  for  de  monish.     Somebody  bays  de  beels 
dere,  and  dot  is  all  vot  she  knows." 

"  You  know  the  girl,  do  you  not?" 

"  Oh,  yes.  I  know  de  girl  eber  since  she  been  born.  She 
is  von  goot  girl." 

"  Did  you  say  she  was  a  poor  girl  ?" 

"Yes;  she  haf  no  kin  folks  in  de  vorld,  'cept  me,  and  I 
vas  kin  to  her  granmudder,  'bout  tousand  years  ago."  And 
Isaac  laughed  at  his  joke." 

"Then  I  will  care  for  her."  And  as  Miriam  spoke,  tears 
came  to  her  eyes  as  she  thought  of  her  own  desolate  situa- 
tion ;  but  she  continued :  "I  love  her  very  much,  and  my 
providential  escape  from  drowning  calls  for  some  act  of 
charity.  She  shall  be  my  sister." 

Isaac — for  such  we  will  call  him,  although  Miriam  had  not 
thought  to  ask  him  his  name — interpreted  Miriam's  speech 
to  the  girl,  who  fell  on  her  neck  and  kissed  her  over  and 
over.  Miriam  returned  her  kisses,  for  it  seemed  that  since 
she  had  lost  all  her  family  this  girl  must  fill  a  vacant  place 
in  her  heart.  As  she  looked  up  she  saw  a  single  tear  roll 
down  the  cheek  of  the  old  Jew.  She  was  astonished;  for  she, 
like  many  others,  had  gotten  the  Jewish  character  from  Shy- 
lock,  and  imagined  that  when  one  of  them  reached  the  age 
of  fifty,  and  was  dried  up  and  ugly,  he  ceased  to  have  a  heart 
for  anything  but  gold.  She  had  expected  that  the  old  man 
before  her  would  exact  a  bond  which,  if  it  did  not  ask  for**  a 
pound  of  flesh,  would  at  least  call  for  two  or  three  dollars 
for  each  one  she  got. 

"To-morrow,"  said  Isaac,  "I  goes  on  de  steamboat  to 
Acre.  An'  dere  I  has  some  camels;  an'  den  I  goes  to  Jeru- 
salem. If  de  ladee  likes  to  go  'long  I  dries  to  take  care  of 
her." 

"I  will  go  along,"  she  said,  "  and  taj:e  my  young  friend 
with  me.  As  you  can  find  out  everything,  I  want  you  to 
hunt  up  the  person  or  persons  who  saved  me,  and  who  so 
kindly  cared  for  me  since  I  have  been  here.  I  would  like 


180  SACRIFICE. 

to  repay  them  any  expense  they  may  have  incurred,  or  at 
least  thank  them  for  their  kindness." 

"  Somedimes,"  said  Isaac,  '  *  beeples  dat  does  de  best  acts 
does  not  likes  to  haf  too  much  danks.  I  'spect  de  ladee 
reads  'bout  de  left  han'  not  knowin'  'bout  de  right  han's 
doin's." 

"  Did  you  ever  read  it?" 
"I  haf  heard 'bout  it." 

Isaac  now  spoke  a  few  words  to  the  man  who  had  charge 
of  the  caravan,  and  then  accompanied  the  ladies  back  to  the 
lodging  house. 

"Here,"  said  Isaac,  when  they  had  reached  the  room, 
"  here  ish  five  hundred  dollars  in  golt.  Now  I  brings  some 
baper,  and  on  dat  de  ladee  gets  de  golt  in  Jerusalem  an'  at 
some  oder  blaces — makes  him'  altogedder  dree  dousand 
dollars.  Now  you  give  me  von  baper  dat  you  gits  dat  much 
from  Isaac,  de  ole  Jew.  De  interest  bees  all  fixed  ven  it 
bees  paid.  I  leafs  dat  all  mit  de  ladee." 

Miriam  began  to  like  the  old  Jew  peddler  whom  she  had 
once  ordered  out  of  her  home,  and  for  whom  she  afterwards 
entertained  such  a  superstitious  dread.  Even  now  a  suspicion 
would  flash  across  her  mind  that  in  all  this  seeming  kindness 
he  intended  to  overreach  her  in  some  way;  but  then  she 
would  quickly  banish  such  thoughts  as  unworthy  of  her. 

'•  Isaac,"  she  said,  after  he  had  brought  her  some  letters 
of  credit,  "  what  did  you  ever  do  with  that  curious  ring  you 
once  tried  to  sell  me  ?" 

"  Dat  ring  ?    Oh,  I  got  him.    You  vants  to  sees  him  ?" 

"Yes;  I  would  like  to  look  at  it  once  more." 

"Yell,  looks  on  him,"  said  Isaac,  holding  it  up  to  her 
eyes,  as  before.  She  saw  a  curious  ring — nothing  more. 

"  Is  that  the  same  ring  ?" 

"De  sames."        * 

"But  I  do  not  see  as  I  saw  before." 

"It  bring  von  vision  to  von  person,"  he  said,  "an'  dat 
vill  be  on  de  dings  dey  most  dinks  about." 


FROM  SYMRNA  TO  JERUSALEM.  181 

"  Why  did  you  take  it  from  Hugh  Ashby?  He  wrote  me 
about  it,  and  said  he  would  like  to  have  it." 

"  I  dells  you.  I  gib  him  to  de  ladee  if  she  bromise  me  to 
gib  him  to  Meester  Ashby  ven  he  say  he  vants  him.  If  he 
no  vants  him,  she  give  it  back  to  me  ven  I  asks  her.  Ish 
dat  a  bargain  ?" 

' '  I  don't  see  anything  very  hard  about  it  for  me.     I  will 
take  it.     But,  tell  me,  is  there  anything— any  reality  in  the 
visions  one  may  see  in  the  serpent's  eyes?" 
"Dat,  ladee,  is  more  as  I  can  dell." 

*  *  Will  Hugh  Ashby  see  anything  in  it  when  I  give  it  to 
him?" 

"  I  dinks  he  vill." 

"Then  why  did  he  not  see  something  in  it  when  he  first 
got  it?" 

"  He  did  not  looks  goot  at  it." 

"Oh,  I  had  nearly  forgotten.     By  what  name  shall  I  call 
my  companion  ?" 
"  Lea." 

When  alone  that  night,  Miriam  began  to  study  the  situa- 
ation.  Would  she  rush  in  on  her  lover  in  her  own  proper 
person  and  claim  his  hand  ?  Or  had  she  not  better  adopt 
some  disguise,  and  thus  find  out  the  secret  which  kept  him 
around  so  desolate  a  place  as  the  Dead  Sea?  While  she 
could  not  permit  a  doubt  of  his  fidelity  to  enter  her  mind, 
yet  the  mystery  which  seemed  to  enshroud  him,  might  make 
her  presence  unwelcome,  and  to  know  this  would  be  humiliat- 
ing. When  morning  came  she  consulted  Isaac,  and  he 
thought  it  a  splendid  idea.  He  said  he  could  so  dress  her 
up  in  male  attire  as  that  even  her  lover  would  not  suspect 
who  she  was. 

"I  do  not  desire,"  she  said,  "to  interrupt  any  work 
he  may  have  on  hand,  with  my  presence.  If  I  should  go 
there  as  Miriam  Howard,  all  alone,  he  would  feel  it  incumbent 
on  himself  to  drop  everything  and  see  to  my  comfort.  If  I 
had  gone  that  way  on  a  tour  with  my  parents,  it  would  have 
been  quite  different.  I  can  stand  any  climate  that  he  can, 


182  SACBIFICE. 

and  any  exposure  lie  can  endure  will  not  kill  me.  But  what 
will  we  do  with  Lea  ?  " 

"  Dare  is  von  convent  at  Jerusalem.  She  can  be  left  dare 
to  learn  de  English." 

' '  That's  it,  exactly ! "  exclaimed  Miriam.  '  '  Our  programme 
is  now  made." 

"Isaac  took  Miriam's  measure  with  his  eyes  and  went 
out,  returning  in  a  short  time  with  a  complete  male  attire. 
As  she  put  it  on,  her  maidenly  modesty  rebelled  against  the 
act,  but  she  brought  to  her  mind  her  situation  and  the  mys- 
terious surroundings  of  her  lover  in  mitigation.  It  was  a 
hard  struggle  to  submit  to  have  the  long  tresses,  which  Hugh 
Ashby  had  so  much  admired,  cut  close  to  her  head.  When 
this  had  all  been  done  she  looked  in  the  glass,  but  failed  to 
recognize  anything  like  her  former  self,  and  when  the  hat 
was  set  on  her  head  she  thought  the  disguise  perfect. 
Isaac  remarked  also  that  a  constant  exposure  to  the  sun 
would  complete  the  change  by  the  time  she  reached  the 
Dead  Sea. 

"  All  things  being  in  readiness,  the  party  embarked  the 
next  morning  on  a  small  steamer  plying  between  Constanti- 
nople and  Cairo,  which  was  to  touch  at  St.  Jean  d'Acre, 
the  Ptolemais  of  the  New  Testament.  In  due  time  they 
arrived  at  that  historic  city,  where  they  found  Isaac's  camels 
waiting  for  them.  Miriam  and  Lea  were  placed  upon  a  huge 
animal,  which  seemed  to  feel  their  weight  no  more  than  if 
they  were  a  couple  of  flies.  Miriam  found  her  new  costume 
much  better  adapted  to  this  mode  of  travel  than  her  owjn, 
and  she  began  to  enjoy  it.  Such  a  trip,  of  all  things  else, 
was  best  calculated  to  divert  her  from  her  recent  bereave- 
ment and  the  troubles  that  surrounded  her.  The  novelty  of 
everything  and  the  excitement  incident  to  the  situation  kept 
her  mind  constantly  occupied. 

There  is  a  pleasure  to  every  one  in  occasionally  being  able 
to  lose  one's  identity  and  creep  from  under  the  conventional 
decrees  of  society;  and  Miriam  realized  this  to  its  fullest  ex- 
tent. In  fact,  she  thought  that  her  great  sorrows  would 


1 

FKOM  SYMBNA  TO  JERUSALEM.  183 

have  weighed  her  down  in  any  other  situation.  So  very 
interesting  was  the  journey  to  her,  that  when  she  reached 
Jerusalem  she  did  not  feel  the  least  tired.  The  first  thing 
she  did  on  arriving  in  that  city  was  to  visit  the  Convent  of 
the  Holy  Cross,  and  make  arrangements  for  the  board  and 
tuition  of  her  young  protege.  But  when  she  had  left  the 
girl  there,  and  the  gates  of  the  convent  clbsed  between  them, 
she  had  to  shed  tears,  in  spite  of  the  duty  she  had  imposed 
upon  herself  of  keeping  up  the  dignity  of  her  masculine 
attire.  Then  came  the  parting  with  Isaac. 

"I  must  go,"  said  that  individual.  "Beesness,  Mees— 
oh,  Meester — beesness;  von  boor  old  mans  vorks  all  de  dimes. 
Meester  Ashby  hafs  von  camp  at  Ain  Jidy,  and  he  many 
dimes  dere.  You  better  dakes  de  camel  and  rides  him  down 
dere,  an'  I  sends  von  goot  mans  to  bring  him  back.  You 
must  bees  a  man,  now;  an'  den  don't  forgit  dat  you  must  be 
von  brave  mans,  if  Meester  Ashby  love  you.  Goot-bye. 
Got  bless  you ! " 

Once  more  Miriam  Howard  was  alone,  and  as  her  lips  pro- 
nounced that  word,  "Alone,"  her  heart  sank  within  her;  but 
she  bit  her  lip  to  keep  back  the  tears  that  were  rising  to  her 
eyes,  and  said  :  ' '  Away  with  weakness !  Whatever  may  be- 
fall me,  I  can  but  die;  and  it  may  be  that  the  last  link  that 
binds  my  affections  to  earth  is  soon  to  be  broken." 

During  each  day  of  the  journey  Isaac  had  given  her  lessons 
in  Arabic,  so  that  she  could  now  at  least  make  her  wants 
known.  He  had  also  provided  her  with  an  elegant  little  five- 
shooter,  and  on  the  route  had  given  her  full  instructions  in 
its  use,  and  she  had  become  quite  proficient  with  it;  in 
fact,  Isaac  said  that  there  was  not  one  man  in  a  thousand 
who  was  her  equal  in  the  use  of  the  pistol.  She  would  havq 
liked  to  have  been  able  to  visit  the  many  holy  places  about 
the  city;  but  as  the  old  Arab  whom  Isaac  had  employed  to 
take  her  to  Ain  Jidy  was  waiting  for  her  with  the  camel, 
she  had  to  pass  on.  She  looked  at  the  old  Arab  who  held 
the  camel,  and  thought  that  if  she  had  not  seen  Isaac  dis- 
appear in  the  far  distance  just  as  this  one  came  from  another 


184  SACRIFICE. 

direction,  she  would  have  thought  that  her  old  friend  had 
come  to  serve  in  her  disguise. 

As  the  animal  knelt  down  for  her  to  mount,  she  said, 
audibly,  "Farewell  to  Miriam  Howard!  Henceforth,  until 
it  may  please  God  that  a  brighter  day  shall  dawn,  I  am  but 
an  actress  on  the  stage,  and  all  the  minutiae  of  the  part  must 
be  studied  and  ever  kept  in  mind." 


CHAPTER  XXI. 


HOWARD  DUDLEY. 

JHEN  Hugh  Ashby  returned  to  his  camp  at  Ain  Jidy 
one  afternoon  just  before  the  setting  of  the  sun, 
he  found  a  trunk  and  some  other  articles  of  bag- 
gage, which  bore  this,  to  him,  strange  address: 
"Howard  Dudley,  Los  Angeles,  Cal,"  He  made 
inquiries  of  his  Arab  cook,  regarding  these  things,  and  was 
told  that  the  owner,  a  mere  boy,  had  come  that  day  on  a 
camel,  and,  finding  him  absent,  had  gone  sauntering  off,  say- 
ing he  would  soon  return.  Hugh's  curiosity  being  excited, 
he  started  out  to  seek  his  new  visitor.  On  turning  around 
one  of  the  spurs  of  the  mountain  facing  the  sea,  he  looked 
upward,  and  beheld  high  up  its  side — even  above  the 
fountain  to  which  so  few  had  dared  to  ascend — the  figure  of 
a  stranger.  Presently  a  huge  stone  came  bounding  and 
dashing  down  the  precipitous  sides,  knocking  in  its  hurried 
descent  other  stones  loose,  and  the  whole  mass  rolled,  with 
the  force  of  the  impetus  given,  over  the  delta  in  to  the  very 
sea  beyond. 

"This  must  be  a  wild  boy,"  said  Hugh  to  himself.  "He 
will  break  his  neck,  unused  as  he  is  to  these  cliffs.  I  must 
go  up  and  show  him  the  best  way  down." 

Taking  a  path  which  would  be  free  from  the  rolling  stones, 
should  the  mad-cap  above  start  another  avalanche  down,  he 
started  up  the  mountain's  side.  The  stranger  seeming  to 
see  him,  commenced  his  perilous  descent.  When  Hugh  had 
gained  the  bench  or  terrace  just  under  the  one  on  which 
the  fountain  was  situated,  he  looked  up  and  saw  the  youth 
above  him.  At  that  moment  a  duck  flew  up  from  the  foun- 
tain, and  at  the  instant  a  shot  rang  out,  and  the  bird  came 
tumbling  to  his  feet.  Then  he  heard  a  musical  laugh,  and 
a  merry  voice  exclaiming,  "Catch  it!"  The  stranger, 
making  his  way  down  the  intricate  path,  soon  stood  face  to 
face  with  our  hero. 


186  SACRIFICE. 

"  Oh,  I  must  rest/'  panted  he,  and,  dropping  upon  one  of 
the  rocks  as  a  seat,  he  bowed  his  head  into  his  hands,  and 
with  heaving  bosom  sat  for  a  few  moments,  as  Hugh  thought, 
in  utter  exhaustion.  Presently  raising  his  head,  he  wiped 
the  perspiration  from  his  brow,  and  said : 

"  It  is  all  over  now.  Mr.  Ashby,  I  believe,"  at  the  same 
time  extending  a  hand.  Hugh  grasped  it  firmly  and  said : 

"That  is  my  name,  and  I  presume,  from  the  name  of  the 
luggage  below,  that  I  have  the  pleasure  of  addressing  Mr. 
Howard  Dudley." 

' '  You  have,  sir.  I  have  a  letter  down  at  the  camp  from  a 
friend  of  yours,  which  will  explain  who  I  am." 

"  Well,  let  us  be  hurrying  along,  for  it  is  getting  late,  and 
this  descent  is  dangerous  even  in  clear  daylight.  We 
will  take  this  duck  with  us,  for  game  is  rather  scarce  here- 
abouts." Together  they  made  their  way  down  the  moun- 
tain side,  Hugh  often  lending  the  assistance  of  his  strong 
arm  to  his  young  companion,  who  seemed  at  times  almost 
faint  from  the  unusual  exertions,  and  on  their  arrival  at 
camp  they  found  supper  awaiting  them.  Seating  themselves 
at  the  rude  tables  within  the  tent,  they  soon  dispatched  the 
edibles  before  them.  Afterwards  the  youth  handed  the  fol- 
lowing letter  to  Hugh,  who,  recognizing  the  writing,  hastily 
opened  it  and  read : 

"SAN  JOSE, 187-. 

"Dear  Hugh: — This  will  introduce  to  you  my  cousin, 
Howard  Dudley,  who,  tiring  of  the  dull  routine  of  books, 
has  concluded  to  finish  his  education  by  a  tramp  over  the 
world.  He  has  told  us  all  to  look  for  him  back  only  when 
we  see  him  coming,  and  not  to  expect  to  hear,  from  him  till 
he  runs  out  of  money.  He  says  he  will  find  you  somewhere 
and  I  am  sure  you  will  like  him,  especially  when  I  tell  you 
that  he  is  my  pet  cousin.  And,  for  my  sake,  I  know  you  will 
treat  him  well,  if  not  for  his  own. 

"  Tours  affectionately. 

"  MIRIAM  HOWARD." 


HOWARD  DUDLEY.  187 

Hugh  read  this  over,  and,  as  he  finished  it,  he  pressed  his 
lips  to  the  signature,  notwithstanding  the  presence  of  the 
youth,  on  whose  smooth  cheek  had  mounted  a  rosy  tinge. 

"  Young  man,"  he  said,  warmly  extending  both  his  hands, 
"  this  is  indeed  a  passport  directly  to  my  heart.  Miriam'a 
wishes  are  commands  to  me,  and  I  hope  to  find  much  to 
interest  you  in  this  somewhat  uninviting  country.  I  have 
managed  to  spend  several  months  around  here,  and  am  not 
yet  half  through  with  my  investigations." 

"Not  yet  half  through!"  exclaimed  his  listener,  whom  the 
reader  has  recognized  before  now  as  Miriam  Howard  her- 
self. "Then  you  will  show  me  some  of  your  discoveries, 
will  you  not  ?" 

"Most  certainly,"  said  Hugh.  "But,  now,  tell  me  about 
Miriam.  When  did  you  see  her  last  ?  How  did  she  look  ? 
What  word  did  she  send  me?" 

' '  I  saw  her  four  months  ago.  She  was  looking  splendidly, 
and  she  told  me  so  much  about  a  certain  gentleman  away 
off  here  on  the  Dead  Sea  that  it  would  take  a  volume  to  con- 
tain it  all.  Just  imagine  to  yourself  all  the  nonsense  to 
which  a  love-sick  maiden  could  give  vent  to,  and  you  have  it." 

"Do  you  know,"  said  Hugh,  smiling  on  the  seeming  boy, 
"  that  you  reminded  me  very  much  of  your  cousin  Miriam 
when  I  first  saw  you  ?" 

'  '  Did  I  ?  We  are  both  full-blooded  Howards.  You  must 
have  a  lonely  time  here,  Mr.  Ashby.  What  do  you  do  to 
amuse  yourself  when  in  camp  ?" 

"When  I  have  nothing  else  to  do  I  read,"  answered 
Hugh. 

"Then  you  must  have  a  famous  library  to  draw  from,  in 
order  to  keep  occupied  ?" 

"  £^o  I  have.  One  of  the  finest  in  the  world.  There  are 
few  better  libraries  than  that  at  the  Convent  of  Mar  Saba." 

"Miriam  told  me  that  you  had  a  fine  voice,  and  were  fond 
of  music.  Do  you  ever  indulge  in  that  pastime,  among 
these  cliffs  r 


188  SACRIFICE. 

"  Scarcely  ever.  Singing  is,  with  me,  a  soul  enjoyment. 
I  found  pleasure  in  singing  with  her,  not  so  much  that  I 
loved  the  song  as  that  I  loved  her." 

"I  took  a  fancy,"  said  Howard,  "a  few  months  ago,  to 
take  some  lessons  on  the  guitar,  and  became  so  greatly  in 
love  with  it  that  I  managed  to  drag  one  even  this  far.  It 
has  more  than  repaid  me  for  the  trouble  I  have  had  in  pro- 
tecting it  from  the  baggage-smasher.  I  will  give  you  an 
accompaniment,  if  you  like,  for  I  see  that  you  are  inclined 
to  be  sad  to-night,  and  I  know  of  no  greater  specific  for 
melancholy  than  music." 

"It  has  been  so  long  since  I  have  sung  to  an  accompani- 
ment other  than  my  own  thoughts,  that  I  fear  I  shall  make  a 
failure;  but  get  your  instrument,  and  perhaps  I  may  join 
you." 

The  guitar  was  taken  from  its  case,  and,  at  the  first  touch, 
Hugh  recognized  the  hand  of  a  finished  performer. 

"  Now,  Mr.  Ashby,  what  will  you  have  ?" 

"Anything  you  please,"  he  replied. 

"Well,  I  will  give  you  one  of  Miriam's  old  favorites," 
and  the  guitar,  under  the  player's  expressive  fingers,  gave 
forth  the  soft,  sweet  tones  of  the  old-time  air,  '  *  Mary  of 
Argyle." 

"  Why  do  you  not  sing?"  asked  Hugh. 

"Howard  Dudley's  voice  cannot  compare  to  that  of  Hugh 
Ashby's;  therefore  he  will  keep  silent.  You,  Mr.  Ashby, 
must  do  the  singing,  for  this  climate  has  broken  my  voice  so 
that  I  croak  like  a  frog.  Now,  I  furnish  one  part  of  the 
entertainment,  and  you  must  supply  the  rest,"  and  she  laugh- 
ingly dashed  off  into  a  gay,  rollicking  air.  Soon  Hugh's 
magnificent  baritone  joined  in,  and  those  old  cliffs  echoed 
with  the  sounds  of  music,  to  which  they  had  been  strangers 
for  thousands  of  years.  The  Arabs,  Hugh's  faithful  atten- 
dants, lolling  around  in  different  positions,  listened  with 
wrapt  attention.  Song  after  song  followed  in  rapid  succes- 
sion, until  Hugh,  looking  at  his  watch,  exclaimed,  in  sur- 
prise : 


HOWAED  DUDLEY.  189 

"Well,  it  is  surely  twelve  o'clock?  This  is  the  most 
pleasant  evening  I  have  spent  since  I  left  home.  I  suppose 
we  had  better  retire.  You,  Howard,  will  of  course  share 
my  blankets." 

"  Oh,  no!"  said  Howard;  "  don't  you  see  that  I  have  a  nice 
little  tent,  just  big  enough  for  one,  and  that  in  it  I  have  a 
very  comfortable  bed  for  camping  out  ?" 

Each,  with  a  friendly  good-night,  retired  to  their  respec- 
tive [places  of  rest — the  supposed  Howard  Dudley  loving 
Hugh  Ashby  more  deeply  than  did  ever  the  Miriam  in  proper 
person,  and  Hugh  wondering  how  it  was  that  he  felt  so 
much  attached  to  any  one  on  such  short  acquaintance  as  he 
was  to  Miriam's  cousin. 

Next  morning  both  were  out  before  sunrise,  and  again 
they  greeted  each  other  affectionately,  Howard  with  defer- 
ence and  respect,  and  Hugh  with  the  attention  and  kindness 
which  one  shows  to  younger  persons  whom  he  highly 
regards. 

As  they  sat  down  to  breakfast  on  the  duck"  which  had 
been  killed  the  previous  evening,  Hugh  remarked  to  his 
young  guest: 

"  You  are  a  magnificent  shot,  Howard." 

"  Purely  accidental,  I  assure  you.  I  am  but  a  moderately 
fair  shot  with  the  pistol — nothing  extraordinary  whatever. 
By  the  way,  do  you  have  much  game  around  here  ?  I  have 
heard  that  nothing  could  live  anywhere  near  the  Dead  Sea. 
Is  it  so  ?" 

"There  is  but  very  little  game.  Occasionally  there  is  a 
duck  to  be  found  near  some  pool  of  water,  like  that  which 
you  shot  last  night,  but  I  have  not  killed  over  a  dozen  since 
I  came  here.  Did  you  notice  the  color  of  your  duck  ?  Well, 
everything  that  lives  around  about  here — the  ducks,  the 
frogs,  the  scorpions,  the  wild  hogs — have  all  precisely  the 
same  color,  the  ashen  hue  of  the  rocks." 

"That  is  very  remarkable,"  responded  his  companion; 
' '  but  what  were  you  intending  to  do  to-day  ?  Do  not,  on 
any  account,  let  me  interfere  with  your  plans.  If  you  don't 


190  SACRIFICE. 

want  to  be  bothered  with  me,  why,  I  can  take  that  nice 
little  rifle  of  yours  and  go  out  and  hunt  a  wild  boar,  or  some- 
thing of  that  kind.  If  I  can't  do  anything  better,  I  can  go 
up  on  the  mountain  and  roll  rocks  down,"  and  a  merry  laugh 
accompanied  these  last  words. 

"You  shall  accompany  me  wherever  I  go,"  said  Hugh, 
"  and  at  the  present  I  am  thinking  of  going  up  to  the  con- 
vent of  Mar  Saba.  I  came  up  from  Gomorrah  yesterday  for 
that  purpose.  I  have  been  making  some  excavations  down 
there,  and,  of  late,  we  have  been  going  through  nothing  but 
salt.  It  is  as  hard  as  rock,  and  we  have  to  blast  it  the  same  as 
we  would  stone;  but,  nevertheless,  it  is  pure  salt.  Yesterday 
I  took  out  some  human  bodies  in  as  perfect  a  state  of  preser- 
vation as  they  were  the  day  they  were  buried,  four  thousand 
years  ago.  We  had  found  before  this  many  evidences  that 
we  were  working  on  that  ill-fated  city.  Among  other  things, 
I  discovered  a  solid  brick  wall,  which,  on  cutting  through, 
I  found  to  have  been  a  temple  of  some  sort,  and  in  it  was  a 
quantity  of  golden  vessels,  which  I  suppose  were  used  in 
their  ancient  worship.  As  the  workmen  did  not  go  with  me 
within  the  wall,  they  have  not  yet  seen  these  valuable  relics, 
or  I  assure  you  they  would  not  remain  there  long.  I  must  go 
to  Mar  Saba  to  get  the  good  monks'  assistance  to  carry  all 
this  away.  It  may  be  of  good  use  to  some  one,  if  not  .to 
me."  As  he  uttered  this  last  sentence  a  shade  of  melancholy 
passed  over  his  features. 

The  anxious  heart  of  Miriam  had  made  her  watchful,  and 
now  her  quick  eye  noticed  the  sadness  in  his  face,  and  she 
asked : 

"  If  not  to  you  ?    Why  not  to  you  as  much  as  to  any  one?" 

Her  eyes  were  upturned  to  Hugh's,  and  in  them  was  such 
an  expression  of  loving  anxiety,  that  he  could  scarcely  resist 
their  pleadings  for  his  confidence. 

He  laid  his  hand  gently  on  her  shoulder,  and  sadly  said : 
"  Please  do  not  question  me,"  then  staggering  tack  a  pace 
or  two,  he  dropped  upon  a  rock  and  covered  his  face  with 
his  hands.  When  again  he  looked  up,  every  vestige  of  color 


HOWABD  DUDLEY.  191 

had  forsaken  his  face,  and  his  lips  had  the  pinched,  drawn 
look  of  one  suffering  the  tortures  of  mental  anguish. 

"What  ails  you?"  said  Miriam,  as,  jumping  quickly  for- 
ward, she  rubbed  his  forehead  with  her  hands.  At  her 
touch  the  truant  blood  returned  to  his  cheeks,  and  he 
seemed  himself  once  more. 

"Nothing,"  he  answered.  Then,  after  a  moment's  pause, 
he  said :  '  *  You  look  so  like  Miriam ! " 

With  a  forced  laugh,  she  exclaimed :  "  Then  is  my  cousin 
Miriam  such  a  bugbear  as  to  make  one  faint  to  even  look 
upon  her  likeness  ?" 

' '  Do  not  question  me  now,"  he  repeated. 

They  remained  in  silence  for  a  few  moments,  Hugh  still 
sitting  on  the  rock,  where  he  had  fallen,  and  Miriam  stand- 
ing just  behind,  looking  down  on  him,  with  face  and  eyes  full 
of  anxious  perturbation. 

"  Well,"  at  length  said  Hugh,  "  shall  we  go  up  to  Mar 
Saba?" 

"  Go  up  among  those  women-hating  old  monks?  Not  I! 
You  can  go  alone,  and  I  will  amuse  myself  during  your 
absence." 

"  You  misunderstand  those  good  men.  They  hate  none  of 
God's  creatures.  On  the  contrary,  their  whole  lives  are  con- 
secrated to  the  alleviation  of  human  misery.  You  had  better 
go  up  and  get  acquainted  with  them,  and  then  I  know  you 
will  like  them  as  well  as  I  do.  Distance  and  misinformation 
often  make  us  think  badly  of  those  whom  to  love  we  need 
but  to  know." 

"  Well,  I  will  not  go  to-day,  as  I  feel  a  little  stiff  after  my 
camel  ride  of  yesterday.  Let  me  have  your  gun,  and*!  will 
practice  rifle  shooting.  I  will  visit  your  monks,  with  you, 
some  other  time." 

* '  Now,  Howard,  if  I  leave  you,  you  must  not  climb  that 
mountain  again.  The  exertion  for  one  unacclimated  is  really 
too  great.  You  will  injure  your  health." 

"I  have  no  sweetheart  to  mourn  for  me  if  I  do;  but  you 
go  on,  and  I  promise  you  I  will  be  a  good  boy." 


192  SACEIFICE. 

"  I  have  known  you  but  a  few  hours,  Howard,"  said  Hugh, 
affectionately  throwing  his  arm  around  the  '  boy's '  shoulders, 
' '  yet  I  love  you  very  much,  and  I  believe  I  would  go  almost 
distracted  should  anything  happen  you.  Therefore,  be  care- 
ful of  yourself.  But  here,"  he  added,  "  is  a  flask  of  wine, 
which  seems  to  have  remarkable  powers  in  restoring  worn-out 
nature.  There  have  been  times  when  I  should  have  died, 
had  I  not  found  it.  This  wine,  my  boy,  is  two  thousand 
years  old." 

" Two  thousand  years  old  !    Where  did  you  find  it?" 

"  I  found  it  in  the  ruin  of  Masada,  some  miles  down  the 
coast;  I  found  there,  at  the  same  time,  about  two  hundred 
thousand  dollars  in  goldenware,  which  I  have  now  up  at  the 
convent. 

"Masada?  I  have  read  about  the  siege  of  Masada  by 
Silva,  and  would  like  to  visit  those  ruins  myself  ! " 

"I  will  take  you  there  some  day,"  said  Hugh.  Then 
changing  the  subject,  he  continued,  "  If  I  do  not  return  to- 
night, you  will  be  perfectly  safe  here.  These  Arabs  are  trust- 
worthy and  faithful,  and  as  they  are  much  better  armed  than 
any  of  the  marauding  bands  that  occasionally  commit  depre- 
dations over  the  country,  they  never  have  any  trouble  from 
them.  There  will  be  six  or  seven  of  them  here  to-night, 
and  each  of  them  armed  with  a  repeating  rifle." 

"  I  guess  I  can  stay  one  night  alone,  where  Mr.  Ashby  has 
spent  so  many.  My  life  is  no  more  precious  than  his." 

"But,  my  dear  boy,  there  is  a  great  deal  in  being  used 
to  being  alone." 

"  Well,  do  you  think  111  ever  get  use  to  it  any  younger? 
All  things  must  have  a  beginning.  Come,  now;  don't  be 
uneasy  about  me.  I  am  going  to  walk  down  to  the  shore 
with  you." 

'  '  I  have  here,  said  Hugh,  when  they  had  reached  the  shore, 
"one  of  the  cunningest  little  steamers  you  ever  saw.  A 
party  of  Englishmen  gave  me  a  good-sized  sail  boat,  which 
was  quite  unmanageable  for  one  or  two  men.  They  called 
her  the  'Victoria.'  Now,  those  monks  up  at  the  convent 


HOWARD  DUDLEY.  193 

do  all  kinds  of  work.  They  have  among  them  the  finest 
mechanics  as  well  as  the  greatest  scholars  in  the  world,  and 
one  day  they  surprised  me  by  presenting  me  with  a  nice 
steam  engine,  just  the  thing  for  this  boat.  We  overhauled 
her,  took  out  the  masts,  and,  as  you  see,  changed  her  into  a 
perfect  little  propaller.  And  as  the  Englishmen  had  named 
her  in  honor  of  their  queen,  I  concluded  to  be  equally  loyal, 
and  you  see  the  name  of  my  queen  painted  on  the  sides." 

" MIRIAM  HOWARD!" 

Had  Hugh  been  looking  in  the  eyes  of  "Howard  Dudley," 
as  his  lips  repeated  the  name  of  the  boat,  he  might  have 
detected  a  gleam  of  pleasure,  a  little  too  intense  to  be 
natural,  even  in  a  favorite  cousin. 

In  ten  minutes  steam  was  up,  and  the  little  craft,  with  her 
single  passenger,  moved  rapidly  up  the  coast,  and  soon 
rounding  a  point,  was  out  of  sight.  Then,  and  then  only, 
did  the  overstrung  nerves  relax,  and,  dropping  upon  the  hot 
sands,  her  overburdened  heart  poured  forth  its  sorrow  in 
bitter,  burning  tears. 


CHAPTER   XXII. 

THE  VIGIL. 

HEN  Miriam  returned  to  the  camp,  she  found  the 
Arabs  loading  a  couple  of  camels,  and  from  them 
she  understood  that  they  were  to  be  sent,  with  one 
or  two  attendants,  down  the  seashore  to  the  place 
where  Hugh's  party  where  at  work,  and  that  they 
were  to  return  that  night.  She  felt  the  need — the  absolute 
necessity — of  exertion.  To  sit  and  think  would  be  tor- 
ture; so  she  determined  to  mount  one  of  the  camels  and 
go,  too.  It  would  involve  some  thirty  miles  of  travel  under 
the  broiling  sun,  but  that  she  would  rather  undergo  than  to 
remain  quiet  and  alone.  She  climbed  therefore  to  the  top  of 
one  of  the  loads,  and  the  animals  started  off  in  the  swinging, 
rocking  pace  peculiar  to  them.  Soon  the  high  battlements 
of  Masada  loomed  up  before  her,  and  she  was  seized  with  a 
desire  to  spend  the  day  within  it.  She  sees  the  winding 
serpent-like  path  up  the  face  of  the  cliff,  and  makes  her  Arabs 
understand  that  she  wishes  to  go  up  there,  and  that  on  their 
return  she  would  meet  them.  The  wind,  filled  with  its  sul- 
phurous odors,  was  blowing  scorchingly,  and  each  moment 
it  became  more  hot  and  disagreeable,  yet  she  started  up  the 
dangerous  ascent.  Up,  up  the  mountain  side  she  climbed, 
winding  around  the  same  circuitous  and  perilous  path  we 
have  seen  Hugh  follow.  Sometimes,  almost  exhausted,  she 
seemed  as  though  she  could  go  no  further;  but  finding,  as 
she  ascended  higher,  the  air  grow  fresher  and  cooler,  she 
gathered  fresh  resolution  and  courage  to  press  on,  and  an 
occasional  sip  from  the  flask  which  Hugh  had  given  her  in 
the  morning  seemed  to  give  her  renewed  life.  At  last  the 
gateway  on  the  top  was  reached  and  Miriam  threw  herself 
down  to  rest.  The  atmosphere  there  was  so  different  from 
that  below  that  she  vaguely  wondered  why  all  the  people  did 


THE  VIGIL.  195 

not  go  up  there  to  sleep.  She  walked  all  through  the  ruin,  ex- 
amining it  by  the  light  of  the  history  she  had  read.  Then 
feeling  curious  to  know  where  Hugh  had  found  the  wine  and 
treasure,  she  prowled  around,  hoping  to  find  the  place  where 
it  had  been  hidden.  The  pool  of  fresh  and  comparatively 
cool  water,  by  the  side  of  which  blossomed  the  oleander, 
was  found,  and  she  drank,  and  was  refreshed.  After  roam- 
ing around  to  her  heart's  content,  she  concluded,  as  the  after- 
noon was  fast  waning,  to  go  to  the  eastern  wall  overlooking 
the  sea,  and  there  watch  for  the  appearance  of  the  camels 
from  the  south.  She  found  a  shady  nook,  where  the  pleasant 
breezes  fanned  her,  and  throwing  herself  upon  the  ground, 
with  a  stone  for  a  pillow,  she  lay,  enjoying  the  delicious, 
cool,  quiet  atmosphere,  every  now  and  then  raising  her  head 
to  view  the  shore,  until  at  last  her  eyes  closed  unconsciously, 
and  she  was  soon  in  a  deep,  invigorating  slumber,  such  as 

she  had  not  known  since  the  wreck  of  the  "  Sardinia." 
******** 

When  Miriam  awoke  it  was  dark.  Jumping  to  her  feet, 
she  looked  around,  and  recognized  nothing  but  the  familiar 
stars  above  her.  She  was  startled — nay,  more,  she  was 
frightened,  brave  girl  though  she  was.  Alone,  at  night,  in 
such  a  place  !  She  began  to  almost  fancy  she  could  see  the 
desperate  Sicarii  cutting  the  throats  of  their  own  wives  arid 
children.  How  many  innocent  ones'  blood  was  shed  on  this 
very  spot !  Every  lonely  oleander  or  tamarisk  bush  seemed 
to  assume  a  life-like  appearance,  and  to  nod  and  bow  to  her, 
as  though  welcoming  her  to  their  phantom  home.  With  a 
strong  effort  of  the  will,  however,  she  dispelled  these  fantas- 
tic illusions,  and  said  to  herself  : 

"I  can  but  die.  And  what  is  life  to  me?  Father,  mother, 
brother — all  buried  under  the  briny  waters  of  the  ocean; 
and  such  a  strange  mystery  enveloping  Hugh,  that  he  seems 
lost  to  me  forever.  Let  other  women  who  have  a  future 
shudder  at  being  alone  in  the  grave-yard .  Am  I  not  ever 
alone  with  my  own  dead  hopes  ?  Do  not  their  pale  phan- 
toms constantly  arise,  mocking  me  with  their  semblance  to 


196  SACRIFICE. 

the  joys  which  are  past?  O  God!  O  God!  Help  me  to 
forget !  In  vain  do  T  shut  my  eyes  and  close  my  ears  in  the 
effort  to  free  myself  from  their  torturing  memories;  but  still 
they  come  crowding  in  upon  me,  overwhelming  me  with  their 
force !"  and  looking  around  once  more  the  dark,  dreary  place 
she  stamped  her  foot  upon  the  ground,  saying,  impetuously : 
"  I  am  not  afraid.  I  will  not  be  afraid!  Nothing  more  than 
death  can  come,  and  that  I  do  not  dread." 

Again  lying  down,  she  endeavored  to  sleep,  but  in  vain. 
Soon  she  welcomed  the  rising  moon,  which,  as  the  air  was 
moderately  clear,  gave  her  an  interesting  landscape  on  which 
to  gaze.  In  the  light  of  its  transient  beams,  she  saw,  glisten- 
ing in  the  distance,  the  sea.  Calm  and  still  it  lay,  as  the 
face  of  the  dead,  giving  no  token  of  the  secrets  hidden 
within  its  dark  depths;  and,  as  she  gazed  upon  it,  a  thousand 
weird  fancies  flitted  through  her  mind. 

Turning  her  eyes  toward  the  interior  of  the  ruin,  she 
beheld,  as  had  done  Hugh  on  a  similar  occasion,  the  figure 
of  a  man  approaching  her.  As  the  figure  continued  to 
advance,  she  called  out  a  halt,  but  no  attention  was  paid  to 
her  demand.  Thinking  her  language  not  understood,  she 
raised  her  rifle  and  fired  one  shot  into  the  air,  as  a  warning; 
but  still  the  figure  paused  not. 

"Now,"  thought  Miriam,  "if  you  will  not  heed  a  gentle 
warning,  take  this,  for  no  nearer  shall  you  come,"  and  lower- 
ing the  gun  to  a  level  with  the  figure's  breast,  again  fired, 
fully  expecting  to  see  him  fall;  but,  to  her  astonishment  and 
horror,  he  remained  upright,  and  a  dry,  hollow  laugh  rang 
out  mockingly  on  the  still  night  air. 

She  saw  that  he  appeared  to  be  an  old  man,  with  long 
white  beard  reaching  nearly  to  his  waist,  and  that  he  was 
dressed  in  the  long  flowing  garments  worn  by  the  ancient 
Jews. 

1  '  Thou  art  in  earnest,  young  lady,"  he  said,  to  her  utter 
amazement,  in  her  own  mother-tongue.  "  But  thou  shouldst 
not  fire  on  friends  approaching  thee." 


THE  VIGIL.  197 

"Who,  in  the  name  of  all  that  is  holy,  who  are  you?" 
exclaimed  Miriam.  "I  fired  directly  at  your  breast,  and  at 
such  a  short  distance  that  there  could  have  been  no  possible 
chance  for  a  miss." 

As  she  spoke,  Miriam  grasped  a  small  dirk-knife,  which 
she  carried  about  her  person,  in  her  hand,  and  again 
demanded : 

1 '  Who  are  you  ?     And  why  do  you  call  me  lady  ?" 

"As  to  who  I  am,  maiden,  go  ask  the  winds  that  have 
blown  o'er  these  hills  since  creation's  morn.  As  to  the 
second  question,  any  man  ought  to  know  a  lady,  even  in  the 
dark." 

"  Well,  what  is  your  business?"  again  asked  Miriam. 

"  When  a  man  is  alone  in  such  a  place  as  this,  and  finds  a 
lady,  also  unaccompanied,  is  it  not  natural  that  he  should 
seek  her  presence,  even  though  she  does  carry  a  battery  of 
artillery  with  her  ?" 

"A  gentleman  would  consult  the  lady's  pleasure,  though, 
as  to  whether  he  should  remain." 

"Lady,  wherefore  didst  thou  seek  this  country?" 

"  When  I  am  convinced  that  it  is  any  of  your  concern, 
sir,  I  will  inform  you !" 

"Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"  If  you  can." 

' '  Thou  hast  a  lover,  who  is  about  to  undertake  the  noblest 
sacrifice  which  ever  fell  to  the  lot  of  man,  and  thou,  for- 
sooth, wouldst  rescue  him  to  thyself.  For  a  few  brief  hours 
of  pleasure  with  him  on  this  earth  thou  wouldst  snatch  from 
him  the  brightest  crown  within  the  gift  of  the  Son  of  God, 
and  drag  his  soul  with  thine  own  down  to  perdition." 

* '  And  who,  may  I  ask,  told  you  all  this  ?" 

"Is  it  not  true?" 

"Not  one  word  of  it  is  true,"  she  exclaimed.  "Now,  Sir 
Phantom,  or  whatever  else  you  may  be,  what  have  you  to 
say  to  that  ?" 

"Then,  maiden,  did  you  not  come  here  with  the  express 
purpose  of  seeing  him  ?" 


198  SACRIFICE. 


'  '  Do  you  not  feel  that  you  would  take  him  from  all  other 
allurements  and  enjoy  his  love  forever  ?" 

"But  you  spoke  of  the  performance  of  some  noble  sacri- 
fice, and  its  reward  of  a  heavenly  crown,  and  of  me  drag- 
ging him  down  to  perdition.  I  would  not  do  that.  Never 
shall  I  be  an  obstacle  in  bis  path  of  duty." 

"Art  thou  positive  in  this  ?" 

"Positive." 

'  '  He  will  do  as  I  have  told  thee,  if  thou  dost  not  give  him 
the  excuse  which  Adam  had  of  old,  '  The  woman  thou 
gavest  me  did  tempt,  and  I  rejected  that  which  Thou  hadst 
in  store  for  me.'  " 

"  How  am  I  to  know  this?"  she  asked. 

"  By  the  use  of  thy  reason,"  he  replied,  and,  turning,. 
walked  away.  He  had  gone  but  a  few  steps,  however,  when, 
looking  back,  he  said  in  a  menacing  tone  : 

"After  the  promise  he  has  made,  woe  be  unto  him  if  he 
sickens  at  the  sacrifice  —  and  woe  be  unto  thee,  if  thou 
provest  false  to  him  and  to  thy  God,  in  this  thing." 

With  these  words,  he  disappeared  in  the  gloom,  and 
Miriam  was  once  more  alone.  Bitter  were  the  reflections 
which  disturbed  her  mind.  All  was  mystery  —  such  awful, 
overwhelming  mystery.  She  forgot  that  she  was  alone  in 
that  desolate  place.  Hobgoblins  or  spirits  had  then  no 
terror  for  her.  In  the  midst  of  her  meditations,  she  heard 
a  voice  calling  : 

"Howard!" 

"  There  is  Hugh!  —  dear  old  Hugh!"  she  exclaimed  to  her- 
self, and  the  first  impulse  was  to  fly  to  his  arms,  but  remem- 
bering her  disguise,  she  recalled  her  scattered  thoughts, 
murmuring:  "He  must  not  suspect  me.  That  accidental 
shot  at  the  duck  yesterday  completely  threw  him  off  from 
any  suspicion  he  might  possibly  have  had.  I  must  turn  this 
adventure  to-night  to  account.  Dear  Hugh!  I  hate  to 
deceive  him."  Then  for  the  second  time  Hugh's  voice  was, 
heard  calling,  and  she  answered: 


THE  VIGIL.  199 

"What  is  it,  sir?" 

"Oh,  you  are  there  all  right,  are  you?"  said  he,  rapidly 
approaching. 

"  Of  course  I  am  here  all  right.  Where  else  should  I  be?" 
laughing  in  a  saucy  manner. 

"  You  ought  to  have  been  at  the  camp ! " 

"But,  Mr.  Ashby,  it  is  so  confounded  hot  down  there, 
and  after  a  fellow  has  gone  to  the  trouble  of  climbing  up 
here  he  hates  to  go  back  again  right  away." 

' '  Were  you  not  afraid  to  stay  up  here  all  alone  ?"  he  asked. 

"Afraid  of  what,  pray?" 

"Nothing  in  particular,  but  the  most  of  people  do  not 
enjoy  being  in  such  places  alone,"  and  Hugh,  seating  himself 
on  the  ground  within  a  couple  of  feet  of  Miriam,  leaned 
over  toward  her,  and  said: 

"  Here,  old  boy,  give  me  your  knee  for  a  pillow,  for  I  am 
fearfully  tired.  I  felt  uneasy  at  your  being  up  here  in  this 
desolate  place  alone,  and  hurried  up  that  terrible  path  as 
fast  as  my  limbs  would  carry  me."  And  resting  his  head 
upon  her  lap,  he  lay  with  his  face  upturned  to  hers.  Then 
taking  her  handkerchief,  Miriam  wiped  the  perspiration  from 
his  brow. 

"  What  did  you  shoot  at?"  asked  Hugh. 

"I  shot  at  a  man,  of  course." 

' '  Shot  at  a  man !     Did  you  hit  him  ?" 

"If  I  did  not  hit  him,  I  ought  to  have  done  so,  for  he 
was  within  less  than  four  feet  of  the  muzzle  of  the  gun  when 
I  fired,  and  he  simply  laughed  at  me." 

"  Did  you  have  any  conversation  with  him  afterwards  ?  " 

"Yes." 

"What  about?" 

"  About  Hugh  Ashby." 

"  About  me!     What  could  he  have  had  to  say  about  me  ?" 

"  Oh,  he  said  you  were  a  good  fellow,  and  that  I  wasn't." 

"  In  what  language  did  he  speak  ?" 

"English." 


200  SACRIFICE. 

"  Don't  you  know  that  there  is  a  legend  to  the  effect  that 
the  Sicarii  hold  high  carnival  up  here  every  night,  and  that 
the  unfortunate  stranger  caught  here  alone  at  midnight  is 
subject  to  them,  to  be  taken  to  their  caves,  and  ever  after- 
ward be  one  of  themselves  ?" 

"  And  to  preserve  your  prospective  cousin  from  such  a 
fate,  you  exhaust  yourself  climbing  this  mountain  after 
dark." 

"I  suppose  you  are  right.  When  I  returned  to  camp, 
and  the  Arabs  told  me  of  your  whereabouts,  you  cannot 
imagine  my  uneasiness;  so  I  hurried  off  to  find  and  keep 
you  company.  When  near  the  foot  of  the  mountain  I  saw 
two  flashes  of  the  rifle  and  heard  the  reports  following.  I 
feared  that  you  might  be  attacked  by  some  marauders  and 
hurried  along  so  rapidly  that  I  believe  I  almost  tired  myself 
out.  This  comfortable  position,  however,  will  soon  rest  me." 

( ( "Were  you  ever  up  here  at  night,  alone  ?" 

"I  was,  and  was  visited  by  an  old  party  who  failed  to 
speak  as  favorably  as  yours  did,  and,  ha!  ha!  old  Isaac 
came  rushing  up  frantically  to  rescue  me." 

"Just  as  you  have  done  to-night,  ha!  ha!  But  tell  me, 
what  did  your  '  old  party'  say  to  you  ?  He  told  you,  I  sup  • 
pose,  that  you  were  going  to  do  some  great  and  noble  deed  ?" 

"Listen  to  me,  Howard,  and  I  have  a  tale  to  unfold. 
Should  you  desire  it,  I  will  tell  you  all.  You  are  brave,  and 
seem  to  be  of  a  generous  and  noble  nature.  It  may  be  that 
I  shall  require  a  trusty  messenger  to  Miriam  Howard,  and 
you  seem  to  be  sent  to  me  for  that  purpose." 

Hugh  began  at  the  ruins  of  Babylon,  and  told  her  all  that 
we  have  written  concerning  him,  and  more — telling  it  in 
more  fervent  language,  because  he  felt  it  all. 

"And  now,  Howard,  you  know  as  much  about  this  as  I 
do.  Have  you  any  suggestions  to  offer  ?" 

"  It  has  come  upon  me  too  suddenly,  Mr.  Ashby,  for  me  to 
be  able  to  suggest  anything  now.  But  why  have  you  kept 
all  this  from  Miriam ?  Why  not  trust  her  with  it?  You  are 
not  afraid  of  her,  I  hope  ?" 


THE   VIGIL.  201 

"No,  I  was  not  afraid  of  her,  Howard..  I  was  afraid  of 
my  own  weak  heart.  It  was  not  a  matter  which  could  be 
transmitted  by  letter.  I  thought  once  of  going  home  and 
returning  before  the  expiration  of  the  year;  but  after  the 
promise  I  had  made  to  those  suffering  souls,  and  to  my 
God,  I  dared  not  walk  in  the  way  of  temptation.  She  is,  I 
know,  all  nobleness  of  soul,  and  would  not  dissuade  me  from 
fulfilling  the  pledge  I  have  given,  because  of  any  mere 
selfishness.  It  was  all  myself  which  I  was  afraid  of.  I 
feared,  that,  did  my  arm  once  more  encircle  her  waist,  my 
lips  touch  hers,  I  would  sacrifice  my  soul  rather  than  tell 
her  I  must  leave  her  forever." 

"  Supposing  that  she  should  try  to  thwart  you  in  this 
thing?  She  might  think  all  this  necessary,  and  that  it  was 
her  duty  to  rescue  you  from  it — what,  then,  would  you  think 
of  her?" 

"  Understanding  all,  she  could  not.  Suppose  my  entrance 
into  Sodom  was  all  a  dream,  as  Father  Dominic  says,  then, 
certainly,  no  harm  can  come  from  going  to  the  shore  again." 

"  You  love  her,"  continued  Miriam,  "  better  than  all  things 
else,  you  say.  Now,  in  that  case,  the  signet  of  the  angel 
must  come  through  her.  How  do  you  suppose  that  must 
come  about  ? 

"I  know  not.  All  I  can  do  is  to  offer  myself  a  willing 
sacrifice.  The  rest  is  in  God's  hands." 

"Suppose  she,"  persisted  Miriam,  "should  become  pos- 
sessed of  that  signet,  and,  knowing  it,  should  withhold  it 
from  you  ?  " 

"  Then  I  would  love  her  no  more.  I  could  love  no  woman 
who  would  wilfully  thwart  the  will  of  God  for  any  whim  of 
her  own." 

"  Have  you  any  idea  what  the  sign  is  to  be  ?"  she  asked. 

"  None  in  the  least.  But  whatever  it  is,  I  shall  certainly 
know  it;  that  is  the  promise,  that  it  shall  tell  its  own  tale." 

"  Have  you  ever  thought  of  what  will  become  of  Miriam? 
What  effect,  do  you  think,  this  will  have  on  her  life  ?" 


202  SACRIFICE. 

"I  have  thought  much  about  that,"  Hugh  replied.  "In 
that  lies  the  great  difficulty.  If  I  should  die  she  would 
grieve  for  a  time,  and  then  recover  from  it.  God,  in  his 
mercy,  has  made  us  to  forget.  Death  and  separation  is  the 
lot  of  all.  Her  heart  would  be  sore  and  bleeding  for  awhile, 
but  soon  the  wound  would  heal  over.  The  span  of  one's 
life  is  but  a  spoke  in  the  wheel  of  Time,  but  heaven  extends 
from  everlasting  to  everlasting.  I  wondered  why  the  poor 
souls  in  the  doomed  city  of  Sodom  could  be  gay,  with  but 
the  twelve  hours  before  them.  Then  came  the  thought,  how 
little  difference  there  was  between  their  short  reprieve  and 
our  brief  lives,  when  each  was  compared  to  eternity.  We 
look  on  a  man  six  feet  high,  and  then  on  a  child  learning  to 
walk,  and  there  seems  to  be  no  comparison  in  size,  but  if 
they  had  each  to  reach  the  sun,  the  difference  would  be  as 
nothing." 

"Miriam  made  no  reply  to  this.  Her  heart  was  too  full 
for  utterance.  Both  were  silent,  and  both  engaged  in  their 
own  reflection.  Presently,  Hugh,  overcome  with  fatigue, 
fell  asleep,  and  Miriam  sat  there  in  darkness,  keeping  senti- 
nel watch  over  the  form  of  her  lover.  She  now  knew  more 
than  he,  she  thought.  That  she  bore  the  expected  signet  on 
her  own  person  she  was  positive.  His  terrible  doom  seemed 
now  to  depend  on  her  free  assent.  She  had  been  educated 
to  believe  in  a  life  to  come,  and  had  never  in  one  instance 
doubted  her  faith;  but  still  she  could  not  accept  any  such 
spiritualistic  demonstration  as  all  this  appeared  to  be.  It 
must  be  the  work  of  some  necromancer,  of  which  she  had 
heard  that  so  many  abound  in  the  East.  If  so,  Hugh's 
willingness  to  undergo  the  fearful  atonement  would  win  for 
him  the  crown  of  eternal  glory.  But  supposing  there  was  a 
reality  in  this  doom,  could  she  ever  spend  another  happy 
moment  in  this  life,  if  she  of  her  own  accord  sent  him  on  to 
meet  it?  Thus  she  sat,  arguing  with  herself,  pro  and  con, 
with  wide  open,  sleepless  eyes,  until  the  grey  streaks  of  dawn 
began  to  appear  in  the  eastern  horizon,  and  still  Hugh  slept 
on.  His  slumbers  were  as  quiet  as  the  infant  on  the  mother's 


THE  VIGIL.  20$ 

breast  before  it  has  learned  the  bitter  curse  sin  has  brought 
upon  mankind.  As  Miriam  gazed  upon  him,  thinking  of  the 
bitter  future  perhaps  in  store  for  them,  she  stooped  and  im- 
printed a  light  kiss*  upon  his  forehead,  and  he  smiled  even 
in  his  sleep.  As  the  sun  rose  it  saw  them  still  in  the  same 
position,  and  as  it  shone  in  Hugh's  face,  Miriam  took  the 
hat  from  her  head  and  shaded  it,  that  he  might  not  be 
disturbed.  Still  she  had  not  decided  what  course  to  pursue, 
"I  will  take  time,"  she  said  fco  herself,  "to  pray.  Prayy 
that  I  may  be  given  wisdom  from  on  High  to  act  as  it  shall 
please  Him,  who  holds  my  destiny  within  his  hand.  If  I 
am  to  suffer  all  my  life — so  be  it." 

On  awakening,  Hugh  exclaimed :  "  I  have  had  such  a 
refreshing  sleep:  but,"  springing  up,  "what  a  selfish  fellow 
I  am  !  Here  I  have  laid  and  slept  the  night  away,  while  you 
have  sat  and  held  me.  I  am  ashamed  of  myself." 

"  You  need  not  be  so,  for  I  assure  you  I  was  not  one  bit 
sleepy.  I  had  a  nice  nap  in  the  evening;  that  was  the  reason 
I  got  left  by  the  camels,  and  had  to  spend  the  night  here.'* 
"Do  you  know,  Howard,  I  dreamed  of  Miriam  ?  I 
thought  that  we  sat  together  in  this  lonely  fortress,  and  that 
she  said  to  me,  'Hugh  Ashby,  you  know  that  I  love  you,  but 
never  will  I  stand  in  the  way  of  your  salvation.  If  you  are 
called  to  this  work,  go.  As  the  Lord  willeth,  do.  If  I 
never  see  you  more,  then,  henceforth,  while  life  doth  last 
me,  shall  every  breath  waft  a  prayer  to  heaven  for  you.'  As 
the  time  approaches  for  this  sacrifice,  less  and  less  do  I 
dread  it." 

"I  suppose,"  said  Miriam,  "you  let  one  go  with  you,  at 
least  to  the  city?" 

"  I  think  not.  It  is  my  impression  that  I  should  go  alone; 
but  I  shall  want  you  to  go  immediately  to  Miriam  and 
tell  her  all.  I  have  written  everything  so  far,  but  the  finale 
you  yourself  must  give.  And  now,  dear  boy,  will  you  make 
me  one  promise  ?" 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Ashby,  I  will  promise  you  anything." 


204  SACRIFICE. 

"  Will  you  do  all  in  your  power  to  console  my  own  dear 
Miriam?  Money  I  shall  leave  her  in  plenty,  and  if  gold 
will  bring  her  earthly  pleasures,  give  them  to  her.  Let  her 
travel — try  and  make  her  forget  any  sorrow  all  this  may 
cause  her."  ^ 

Poor  Miriam !  It  seemed  as  though  her  full  heart  would 
burst  its  bounds;  but,  with  a  violent  effort  of  the  will,  she 
controlled  herself  and  answered,  with  her  face  turned  from 
his  that  he  might  not  see  the  varying  emotions  written 
thereon : 

"I  will  promise  you  anything  except  this.  I  will  not  try 
to  make  her  forget  you  or  anything  connected  with  you. 
She  and  I  will  both  always  pray  for  you." 

' '  You,  Howard,  do  you  ever  pray  ?" 

"  Of  course  I  have,  all  my  life.  But  now  my  prayers  shall 
henceforth  be  consecrated  to  an  object." 

"It  is  not,  indeed,  always  the  most  solemn  exterior  which 
covers  the  most  religious  heart.  But  I  see,"  continued 
Hugh,  after  looking  in  the  direction  of  Ain  Jidy,  "  that  our 
trusty  Arabs  are  bringing  a  camel  this  way  for  us  to  ride 
back  to  camp.  Let  us  go  down  and  meet  them." 


CHAPTER  XXIII. 


THE    SIGNET. 

HEN  Hugh  Ashby  and  Miriam  Howard  arrived  at 
the  camp  at  Ain  Jidy,  tired  and  hungry,  they  found 
an  excellent  breakfast  awaiting  them.  It  was  the 
pride  of  the  Arab  cook  to  have  everything  always 
ready  on  his  master's  return  from  his  fatiguing 
tramps,  as  also  to  have  the  best  that  could  be  procured. 

"  Why  do  you  have  a  camp  here?"  said  Miriam,  "and  also 
one  down  where  you  are  at  work,  at  Gomorrah,  while  your 
principal  headquarters  are  at  the  convent  ?" 

"  No  one  who  has  any  regard  for  -his  health  will  live 
around  the  south  end  of  the  sea.  Even  the  Arabs  can  work 
there  but  a  short  time,  when  I  have  to  send  them  a  relief. 
The  stench  from  the  stagnant  pools  of  sulphur  and  asphaltum 
is  most  disagreeable,  and  the  bleakness  is  that  of  utter  deso- 
lation. This  is  the  only  spot  immediately  on  the  shore  that 
is  at  all  fit  for  a  white  man's  camp,  and  it  is,  as  you  see,  no 
paradise.  Then,  as  it  is  necessary  to  have  some  place  in 
which  to  keep  valuables,  and  also  to  find  persons  with  whom 
one  can  converse  on  terms  of  equality,  the  Convent  has 
proved  to  be  quite  a  convenience,  even  though  I  had  not 
found  a  home  within  its  walls,  and  true,  generous,  manly 
hearts  beneath  the  coarse,  religious  habits.  Then  it  is  but 
little  trouble,  with  my  staunch  little  *  Miriam  Howard,'  to 
go  from  one  place  to  another." 

While  they  were  thus  conversing,  and  enjoying  their 
breakfast  at  their  leisure,  a  messenger  arrived  from  the  Con- 
vent with  letters  for  Hugh.  He  took  them  and,  looking 
over  them,  laid  them  carelessly  down  beside  him,  with  the 
remark  that  as  there  were  none  from  Miriam,  he  would 
finish  his  breakfast  before  opening  them. 


206  SACRIFICE. 

Miriam,  glancing  over,  saw  the  superscription  on  the  top- 
most letter,  and  in  it  recognized  the  bold,  clear  characters 
of  her  father's  handwriting.  The  blood  forsook  her  face,  and 
her  heart  seemed  to  stand  still.  It  told  her  that  he  at  least 
had  been  saved. 

"  I  see  there  is  one  from  London,"  remarked  Hugh.  " That 
must  be  from  my  friend,  Lieutenant  Condor,  who  gave  me 
the  boats.  I  sent  to  the  Society,  not  long  ago,  an  amount 
equal  to  double  their  value,  and  I  suppose  this  is  the 
acknowledgment." 

Miriam,  at  the  same  time,  knew  that  the  letter  was  from 
the  dear  parent  whom  she  had  mourned  as  dead;  but  she 
dared  not  speak,  lest  she  should  betray  herself.  She  could 
not  eat,  for  the  victuals  seemed  as  though  they  would  choke 
her,  and  as  she  sat  dallying  with  her  knife  and  fork,  Hugh 
noticed  her  extreme  pallor  and  agitation,  and  anxiously 
asked : 

' '  What's  the  matter,  Howard  ?     Are  you  sick  ?" 
"No,"  she  replied,   "only  a  temporary  indisposition.     I 
am  feeling  better  now." 

"  Ah,  my  boy,  I  fear  that  you  overdid  your  strength  yester- 
day. You  must  be  more  careful,  until  you  are  acclimated, 
at  least." 

After  Hugh  had  eaten  his  breakfast  with  the  utmost  leisure, 
little  knowing  of  the  poor,  throbbing  heart  which  so  impa- 
tiently awaited  his  movements,  he  again  took  up  his  letters, 
and  looking  them  over,  selected  one  from  his  California 
agent,  opened  and  read  it,  then  proceeded  to  make  some 
figures  before  turning  to  another.  After  he  had  seemingly 
satisfied  himself  at  this,  he  picked  up  a  letter  from  the  Pasha 
of  Bagdad,  and,  as  if  bent  upon  torturing  poor  Miriam  to  the 
utmost,  took  his  own  time  in  reading,  seemingly  much  pleased 
with  its  contents. 

"What  a  warm-hearted  fellow  that  Abdul  is  F'  he  remarked, 
and  forthwith  proceeded  to  relate  the  adventure  with  the 
lion  to  his  almost  distracted  listener.  But  all  things  must 


THE   SIGNET.  207 

have  an  end,  and  presently  he  picked  up  the  London  letter, 
and,  looking  again  at  the  superscription,  remarked: 

"  If  this  letter  was  not  post-marked  London  I  would  think 
it  was  from  Mr.  Howard.  It  is  the  fac-simile  of  his  hand- 
writing. Do  you  know  your  uncle's  writing,  Howard?" 

Miriam  could  not  trust  herself  to  speak,  but  simply  nodded 
assent.  At  length  the  seal  was  broken,  and  Hugh  began  to 
read.  Miriam  looked  anxiously  into  his  face  the  while,  as 
though  to  read  the  story  there.  He  read,  first,  with  a  pleased 
expression  on  his  face,  then  it  was  suddenly  overshadowed 
by  a  look  of  anguish,  and  the  paper  fell  from  his  nerveless 
grasp.  The  man  whom  she  had  seen  but  the  evening  before, 
calmly  and  quietly  talking  of  giving  UD  his  life,  of  descending 
down  into  the  depths  of  the  sea,  and  after  a  year  of  living 
death,  be  relieved  only  by  the  torments  of  the  damned,  was 
now  completely  overwhelmed  by  sorrow.  In  speechless 
agony  he  pushed  the  letter  to  Miriam  to  read. 

"Oh,  my  God!"  he  groaned,  "would  that  I  could  have 
been  spared  this ! " 

The  impulse  was  strong  within  Miriam  to  throw  herself 
upon  his  bosom  and  proclaim  her  identity;  but  would  not 
that  complicate  the  situation  ?  What  would  he  think  of  her 
coming  upon  him  in  disguise  as  a  spy  ?  Could  either  act  so 
freely  thereafter,  or  would  he  allow  her  to  remain  ?  With  a 
violent  effort  of  her  will  she  resisted  the  temptation,  and 
taking  the  letter  she  began  to  read.  It  was  a  long  one,  and 
gave  an  account  of  Henry's  marriage  with  Agnes  Bonham, 
and  the  conclusion  to  visit  the  old  world.  Then  came  the 
shipwreck  and  the  details  of  the  search  for  Miriam.  She 
certainly  was  lost,  the  letter  said,  for  no  trace  of  her  what- 
ever had  been  found.  Throughout  the  whole  of  the  epistle, 
however,  there  was  no  mention  of  the  Jew,  for  Mr.  Howard 
would  have  thought  it  a  weakness  to  attach  any  importance 
whatever  to  the  actions  of  such  an  individual. 

Miriam  had  cause  to  rejoice  that  the  whole  party  was  yet 
alive;  but  now  it  seemed  plain  to  her  that  she  had  been 
saved  by  some  superhuman  agency,  and  directed  to  this  place 


208  SACRIFICE. 

for  a  purpose.  What  was  that  purpose?  To  act  as  priestess 
at  the  sacrifice  of  her  lover  ?  Was  that  the  part  to  which  she 
was  called  ?  Her  soul  shrank  back  aghast  as  this  awful  pos- 
sibility arose  before  it. 

Long  sat  Hugh  Ashby,  bowed  over  the  table,  with  his  face 
buried  in  his  arms.  When  at  last  he  raised  his  head,  he 
appeared  calm ;  but  on  his  features  could  be  seen  the  traces 
of  the  storm  which  had  raged  within. 

"Now,  the  last  obstacle  is  removed  by  the  hand  of  God," 
he  said.  "I  know  my  duty,  and  only  pray  that  I  may  be 
found  worthy  to  undertake  the  mission.  Howard,  you  are 
now  the  only  tie  which  binds  me  to  earth.  I  love  you  because 
you  look  so  much  like  Miriam.  {She  has  been  called,  but  to 
take  her  place  among  the  shining  hosts  of  heaven,  and  I  hope 
to  meet  her  there  in  good  time.  You  have  as  brave  and  true 
a  heart  as  ever  beat  in  the  bosom  of  a  man,  and  I  shall  need 
the  advice  and  assistance  of  such  a  one.  You  will  remain 
with  me  till  the  last,  will  you  not  ?  Miriam  was  my  all ;  but 
now  she  is  gone,  you  are  my  only  earthly  affection.  And, 
dear  boy,  I  would  do  nothing  to  mar  the  pleasures  of  your 
future  life,  but 

"  Catch  the  transient  hour; 
Improve  each  moment  as  it  flies; 
Life's  a  short  Summer — man  a  flower — 
He  dies — alas!  how  soon  he  dies." 

The  shadows  of  the  afternoon  were  rapidly  lengthening 
when,  a  few  days  after  the  foregoing  events.  Hugh  and 
Miriam  might  have  been  seen  climbing  up  the  side  of  a 
mountain,  where  was  located  the  cave  in  which  David  hid 
himself  when  sought  by  the  army  of  Saul.  They  entered  it 
by  an  aperture  which  Hugh  had  discovered,  as  we  have  seen, 
sometime  before  this. 

"Here,"  he  said  to  Miriam,  "is  where  the  young  German, 
of  whom  I  have  before  spoken,  must  have  found  the  parch- 
ment letter  from  Samuel  to  David,  as  I  also  discovered 
another,  hidden  away  in  this  crevice,"  and  he  pointed  to  a 
crack  in  the  rocks,  over  which  the  spiders  had  now  spun  their 


THE    SIGNET.  209 

webs.  "The  one  I  found  was  more  stained  and  mutilated 
than  that  of  the  German,  and  Father  Dominic  will  experi- 
ence considerable  difficulty,  I  think,  in  deciphering  it." 

"The  more  difficulty  the  greater  the  pleasure  to  him,  I 
judge,  from  what  you  have  told  me  of  him,"  said  Miriam. 

"  You  are  right;  he  is  never  so  happy  as  when  poring  over 
some  almost  illegible  old  manuscript/' 

"You  have  found  other  caves  than  this,  have  you  not,  Mr. 
Ashby?" 

"Oh,  yes,  I  have  found  several,  the  most  interesting  of 
which,  to  me,  is  the  cave  in  which  Lot  took  refuge,  when  he 
fled  from  Sodom .  Do  you  know,  Howard,  that  I  have  some- 
times fancied  that  my  old  friend  Isaac,  of  whom  I  have  told 
you — the  mysterious  old  man  of  Masada,  and  he  whom  I  saw 
fleeing  from  the  hot  winds — are  one  and  the  same  person,  and 
that  person  I  imagine  is  none  other  than  Lot  himself." 

* '  Oh,  Mr.  Ashby,  you  have  dug  around  in  these  caves  and 
ruins  so  much  that  you  have  grown  fanciful." 

"Time,  Howard,  will  prove  its  truth." 

Miriam  was  startled  when  Hugh  gave  expression  to  his 
idea  of  the  supernaturalness  of  old  Isaac,  for  it  seemed  to 
accord  with  some  of  her  own  wild  vagaries  on  that  subject. 
She  knew  more  of  that  strange  personage  than  even  Hugh 
himself,  and  now  a  new  light  seemed  to  have  broken  in  upon 
her  bewildered  mind.  She  was  now  positive  that  she  had 
seen  him  on  the  ship  before  the  wreck,  and  that  it  was 
through  his  agency  that  she  had  been  saved.  Perhaps,  too, 
it  might  have  been  through  his  agency  that  the  loss  of  the 
vessel  had  been  brought  about.  Then,  indeed,  would  it 
seem  that  she  was  called  of  God  for  some  great  mission. 

Hugh  fanned  himself  for  a  while,  with  his  broad-brimmed 
hat,  and  then  returning  to  the  entrance  of  the  cave,  they 
both  seated  themselves  on  a  stone.  Here  on  the  shelving 
cliff,  not  far  from  the  upper  formation,  they  sat,  looking  far 
out  on  a  desolate  scene  beyond.  They  both  seemed  think- 
ing, and  presently  Hugh  spoke,  as  though  in  continuation  of 

his  reverie: 
14 


210  SACRIFICE. 

"He  must  certainly  have  some  very  important  part  to 
play  in  this  fearful  drama.  Some  time  ago,  I  found  in  that 
cave  an  old  inscribed  tablet,  which  bore  these  words  : 
'The  Lord  hath  this  day  put  a  yoke  upon  me,  and  my 
burden  is  heavy.  Upon  the  face  of  the  earth  am  I  doomed 
to  wander,  until  the  Sodomites  shall  be  purged  from  their 
sins  and  enter  the  presence  of  the  Most  High.' " 

"  Then,"  said  Miriam,  "you  think  this  proof  positive  that 
Lot  and  Isaac  are  one,  do  you  ?" 

\"I  think  it  very  strong  evidence,  to  say  the  least,"  he% 
returned.  "I  afterwards  went  into  this  cave  and  found  a 
queer-looking  ring  on  the  finger  of  an  old  mummy,  and  was 
coming  out  with  it,  when  who  should  unexpectedly  appear 
but  old  Isaac.  Just  at  this  moment  a  band  of  wild  Arabs, 
who  had  been  lying  in  ambush,  seized  me,  and  demanded 
ransom.  Isaac  furnished  the  ransom,  but  asked  for  the 
ring,  which  I  foolishly  gave  him.7' 

"And  have  you  never  seen  the  ring  since?"  inquired 
Miriam. 

"  I  have  not,  and  I  lost  it  so  quickly  that  I  had  no  time  to 
closely  inspect  it.  It  was  not  till  long  after  this  adventure 
that  I  began  to  connect  those  personages  in  my  mind.  I  saw 
Isaac  some  five  or  six  weeks  ago,  but  had  not  the  opportu- 
nity of  speaking  with  him,  or  I  would  have  asked  him  for 
the  ring.  He  was  passing  along  by  the  convent  on  a  camel, 
and  I  was  on  the  cliff,  400  feet  above  him.  I  should  like  to 
meet  the  old  Jew  once  more,  for  I  have  a  foolish  desire  for 
that  ring,  and  would  not  stand  upon  any  price  he  might  ask 
for  it." 

Now  was  the  time.  The  desire  had  been  expressed,  and 
would  Miriam  do  her  part  ?  Her  eyes  were  directed  on  the 
scene  before  her,  but  she  saw  it  not.  Far,  far  beyond  they 
peered,  as  though  they  would  pierce  the  hidden  future.  The 
finger  of  God  seemed  pointing  directly  to  this,  and  a  voice 
seemed  to  echo  in  her  inmost  soul,  "This  is  my  will! 
Do  it!"  His  hand  had  led  her  on — on  to  the  fulfillment  of 
this  purpose,  and  now,  dared  she,  a  weak,  sinful  mortal, 


THE   SIGNET.  211 

attempt  to  thwart  His  divine  will  ?  If  she  herself  had  been 
the  one  to  suffer  and  to  die,  she  could  far  more  easily  have 
given  up  the  signet,  which,  she  now  felt  conscious,  she  bore 
upon  her  person.  She  had  pledged  her  word  to  give  Hugh 
the  ring,  whenever  he  should  express  the  desire  for  it.  Ten 
thousand  times  more  to  her  was  this  question  than  that  of 
life  or  death,  and  yet  she  must  act  quickly. 

"Hugh  Ashby,"  she  spoke,  in  low,  hollow  tones,  "it 
appears  that  you  are  really  the  desired  victim  for  this  sacri- 
fice, and  I  am  the  unhappy  instrument  ordained  to  send  you 
on  to  your  doom.  O  God!  would  that  I  had  the  firmness 
and  wisdom  of  the  holy  Abraham,  when,  at  the  command  of 
the  Most  High,  he  sought  to  immolate  his  beloved  Isaac  on 
the  sacrificial  altar!  Oh,  that  I,  unworthy  as  I  am,  might 
be  substituted  in  your  place ! " 

For  a  moment  her  head  was  bowed  in  silence,  while  Hugh 
looked  at  her  in  wonder  and  amazement.  Then  raising  her 
bloodless  face,  with  its  deathlike,  compressed  lips,  she  con- 
tinued: 

"  Mr.  Ashby,  I  have  met  this  wandering  Jew — this  Lot  of 
yours — and  he  gave  me  this  ring  to  give  you  whenever  you 
should  express  a  desire  for  it.  Here  it  is." 

Hugh  took  the  ring,  and  as  a  last  lingering  ray  of  the  set- 
ting sun  fell  upon  it  he  looked  at  it  with  a  curious  regard. 
Now  sweet,  white-winged  Hope  lay  dead  at  Miriam's  feet, 
and  stricken  by  her  hand.  With  silent,  absorbed  attention 
does  she  watch  both  the  ring  and  her  lover's  face — no,  no 
longer  her  lover's,  but  the  face  of  one  who  is  lost  to  her 
forever.  The  ring  appears  the  same  as  usual,  but  the  face 
holds  her  spell-bound.  A  smile  passes  over  his  lips,  as  of 
one  to  whom  a  pleasing  picture  has  been  unrolled.  This 
fades  to  be  gradually  replaced  by  a  look  of  loathing  horror, 
in  which  his  body  shrinks  and  draws  within  itself,  as  though 
it  would  escape  from  the  contact  of  some  slimy,  hideous 
reptile.  Now,  a  mortal  agony  seems  to  draw  and  convulse 
every  feature,  and  a  cry  of  bitter  anguish  bursts  from  the 
pallid  lips,  while  his  body  becomes  as  cold  and  rigid  as 


212  SACBIFICE. 

steel.  The  Land  which  hangs  by  his  side  is  clenched,  until 
the  nails  are  buried  in  the  flesh  and  the  blood  oozes  there- 
from. A  cold,  clammy  sweat  stands  in  great  drops  upon  his 
brow,  his  bloodshot  eyes  seem  staring  at  some  frightful  vision. 
Miriam  listens  eagerly  and  intently,  but  no  word  falls  from 
his  lips  to  betray  the  awful  picture  which  he  beholds.  Now 
a  change  seems  to  come  "o'er  the  spirit  of  his  dream,"  for 
his  body  loses  its  fearful  tension  and  his  countenance  again 
becomes  serene.  Still  he  gazes  intently  on  the  ring.  All  is 
not  yet  over.  Suddenly  his  face  is  illumined  by  an  expression 
which  painters  so  often  strive  feebly  to  catch,  when  they 
seek  to  portray  the  beautitude  of  the  saints. 

With  a  shiver  and  a  sigh  Hugh  seemed  to  awaken  from 
the  spell  which  had  bound  him.  Not  more  than  two 
minutes  had  elapsed  during  this  scene;  but  to  them  both  a 
wave  from  the  ocean  of  eternity  had  seemingly  washed  over 
their  heads. 

"What  was  there  about  that  ring,  Mr.  Ashby,  which 
made  you  look  so  strangely  ?"  said  Miriam. 

"Young  man,"  he  said  in  a  solemn  tone,  "it  is  not  best 
for  you  to  know  all  that  has  in  this  past  moment  been 
unfolded  to  my  view.  I  saw  Miriam  Howard,  however,  and 
it  seemed  that  she  was  still  in  the  flesh,  and  she  appeared  to 
know  all.  Can  it  be  that  Miriam  is  living  yet  ?" 

"No!  no!"  cried  Miriam.  "She  is  dead,  surely  dead!" 
And  in  her  agony  of  heart  she  felt  that  the  old  Miriam  was 
indeed  dead,  and  never  to  be  resurrected  in  this  world. 
"But,"  she  continued,  "is  it  possible  that  you  must  go 
down — down  to  the  depths  of  that  pitiless  sea,  and  after  the 
allotted  time  spent  there,  descend  to  the  abode  of  the 
damned  ?  Oh,  Hugh  Ashby !  would  that  the  world  contained 
more  like  thee,  and  what  a  paradise  it  would  be!" 

"  Listen  to  me,  my  boy.  Why  should  you  be  troubled  or 
mourn  for  me?  In  this  world  men,  without  a  moment's 
hesitation,  barter  their  souls  to  the  enemy  of  mankind  for  a 
few  paltry  pieces  of  gold,  that  can  buy  them  but  a  few 
moments'  pleasure.  They  enjoy  an  apparently  bright  day 


THE  SIGNET.  213 

upon  earth,  and  then,  by  their  own  bargaining,  they  go 
down — down — down  to  the  bottomless  pit,  there  to  remain 
forever  and  forever.  Pity  them,  child,  rather  than  me. 
How  many  of  your  acquaintances  are  living  this  life,  and 
yet  you  have  never  thought  to  bestow  on  them  one  word  of 
caution.  I  consent  to  stand  pain  and  misery  for  a  time,  and 
release  those  poor  souls  from  their  sufferings,  to  be  rewarded 
by  an  eternity  in  the  presence  of  God.  Had  you,  my  boy, 
seen  your  friend,  Hugh  Ashby,  cheating  the  poor,  and  lay- 
ing up  great  stores  of  gold,  while  they  wept  for  the  neces- 
saries of  life  and  were  turned  empty-handed  from  his  door, 
or  had  you  seen  him  begrudging  the  orphans  the  poor  mite 
which  they  get,  you  would  not  have  felt  so  badly  for  him  as 
you  do  now;  yet  in  that  case  an  eternity  of  woe  would  have 
been  awaiting  him,  while  in  this,  angels  congratulate  his  lot 
and  shout  him  welcome  to  the  skies!" 


CHAPTER   XXIV. 

THE   ATONEMENT. 

fWO  months  have  elapsed  since  the  scenes  narrated 
in  our  last  chapter.  Miriam  has,  by  extraordinary 
effort,  kept  up  her  spirits,  though  Hugh  has  noticed, 
with  much  concern,  that  the  health  of  his  young 
companion  has  been  gradually  failing.  Several 
times  has  he  urged  that  she  go  up  to  the  Convent  for  recu- 
peration; but,  knowing  it  to  be  against  the  rules  of  the 
Order  for  women  to  enter  there,  she  resolved  not  to  infringe 
on  their  regulations,  even  though  in  the  disguise  of  a  man. 
The  excavations  at  Gomorrah  have  still  been  prosecuted  dur- 
ing this  time,  and  many  tablets  and  other  records  found, 
which,  a  little  over  a  year  ago,  would  have  been  considered  of 
great  value  by  Hugh.  The  different  articles  of  gold  or  silver 
were  taken  out,  not  that  he  attached  any  particular  value  to 
them ;  but  his  young  friend,  Howard  Dudley,  to  whom  he 
intended  leaving  all  his  earthly  effects,  might,  in  connection 
with  Miriam,  should  she  ever  be  found,  do  a  great  deal  of 
good  with  the  money  accruing  therefrom. 

]\Jiriam's  father  still  remains  in  ignorance  of  her  existence, 
for  she,  not  wishing  to  discover  her  situation  to  any  one,  has 
refrained  from  writing. 

"  My  friends  have,  already,"  she  thinks,  "  mourned  me  as 
dead,  and  should  they  now  hear  that  I  am  still  living,  it 
would  only  enkindle  an  anxiety  in  their  hearts  which  I  can- 
not now  relieve.  I  will  await  the  termination  of  this  terri- 
ble mystery,  then  fly  to  the  nearest  telegraph  office,  and 
announce  to  them  my  speedy  return." 

As  the  days  have  passed  swiftly,  more  and  more  has  the 
love  of  Hugh  Ashby  centred  in  the  person  of  the  supposed 
Howard  Dudley.  They  are  sitting  silently  at  the  camp  of 
Ain  Jidy  (the  Fountain  of  the  Kid),  busied  with  their  anx- 


THE   ATONEMENT.  215 

ious  thoughts.  On  the  morrow  comes  the  annual  sirocco — 
and  then  ?  It  is  the  contemplation  of  this  awful  subject  in 
which  the  minds  of  both  are  absorbed.  A  number  of  frogs 
go  hopping  past,  with  their  heads  turned  from  the  sea. 
Without  saying  a  word,  Hugh  takes  a  stick  and  tries  to 
turn  them  in  the  opposite  direction,  but  each  seems  to  prefer 
death  rather  than  retrace  one  step  towards  the  sea.  The 
lizards  and  the  scorpions,  also,  which  infest  the  rocks  near 
the  water,  begin  to  crawl  out  and  join  the  procession  of 
frogs.  The  Arabs  around  the  camp  now  begin  to  look 
uneasy,  and  to  hold  consultations  among  themselves. 

"See,"  said  Hugh,  "everything  fleeing  from  this  sin- 
cursed  spot.  Year  after  year  does  the  voice  of  God  warn 
even  the  poisonous  insects  and  reptiles,  as  did  the  angel 
warn  Lot,  to  flee  from  the  wrath  to  come.  'Fly,  oh,  fly  from 
the  haunts  of  sin,'  is  this  mysterious  voice  ever  repeating  in 
the  heart  of  every  human  being.  The  conscience  of  man  is 
as  true  a  guide  as  is  the  instinct  of  animals.  That  is  the 
still  small  voice  by  which  the  Almighty  speaks  to  His  crea- 
tures; but  man,  heeding  it  not,  goes  on  and  on,  stopping  his 
ears  to  its  faint  whisperings,  until  at  last  God,  wearied  in 
His  strivings,  delivers  him  over  to  his  own  destruction." 

Miriam  looks  with  a  vague  curiosity  at  the  departing  rep- 
tiles, and  sees  Hugh's  experiment  with  the  frogs.  She 
turns  her  regards  upon  the  anxious  faces  of  the  Arabs,  and 
thence  to  the  calm,  determined  countenance  of  Hugh  Ashby; 
but  yet  she  speaks  not.  She  feels  as  though  she  were  chok- 
ing and  her  hands  clutch  nervously  at  her  collar,  when  Hugh 
suddenly  turns  to  her  and  says: 

"Howard  Dudley,  all  Nature  seems  warning  us  that  the 
time  for  our  final  parting  is  near  at  hand.  I  shall  soon  take 
a  boat  and  cross  the  sea,  while  you  must  mount  one  of  the 
camels  and  depart  towards  Jerusalem.  Here  are  papers 
bequeathing  you  all  my  earthly  possessions,  without  restric- 
tion; but  it  is  my  desire  that  the  means  thus  placed  at  your 
disposal  shall  be  made  useful  in  ministering  to  the  wants  of 
the  poor.  Relieve  everywhere  the  cry  of  the  distressed.  And 


216  SACRIFICE. 

oh,  my  boy!  lead  a  pure  and  humble  life;  for  in  the  end 
naught  else  will  avail  thee;  and  if  called  upon  to  make  any 
sacrifice,  for  God's  sake,  make  it  like  a  man,  and  like  one 
who  hopes  for  a  glorious  futurity  in  the  realms  of  eternity." 

Miriam's  fingers  close  mechanically  upon  the  papers 
which  Hugh  has  given  her.  She  essays  to  speak,  but  no 
sound  issues  from  her  pale  lips.  She  is  overwhelmed  by  a 
realizing  sense  of  the  horrible  catastrophe  the  next  few 
hours  may  bring  forth.  In  her  anguish,  she  is  about  to  cry 
out,  "Hugh!  Hugh!  live  for  me!"  but  he  has  turned  from 
her  and  is  speaking  to  his  Arabs,  and  her  agony  is  smothered 
in  the  depths  of  her  own  heart.  She  follows,  and  greedily 
drinks  in  the  melodious  tones  of  his  voice  as  he  speaks  to 
his  faithful  attendants. 

"You  have  been  with  me,"  he  says,  "for  more  than  a 
year,  and  you  have  served  me  faithfully  and  well.  You  have 
made  my  interests  your  interests.  You  have  watched  while 
I  have  slept.  Each  of  you  has  professed  the  life-giving  faith 
of  the  Son  of  God.  Hold  fast  unto  it,  remembering  always 
the  lessons  I  have  taught  you.  Now,  my  friends,  I  have  but 
one  more  favor  to  ask  of  you.  I  desire  that  each  will  pro- 
tect and  defend  this  young  man  as  long  as  he  shall  remain 
in  your  country.  Follow  him,  and  be  as  true  to  him  as  you 
have  been  to  me.  I  go  to  meet  the  deadly  simoom  on  the 
eastern  shore,  and  perhaps  to  perish."  And,  as  the  devoted 
fellows  crowded  around,  with  exclamations  of  surprise  and 
regret  at  being  separated  from  so  good  a  master,  he  gives  a 
farewell  pressure  to  the  hand  of  each,  and  bestows  on  him  a 
small  keepsake  and  a  purse  of  gold,  which  to  these  poor 
people  seems  a  fortune.  In  the  exuberance  of  his  gratitude 
each  Arab  falls  upon  his  face  and  thanks  his  benefactor. 

At  this  moment  the  aged  form  of  Father  Dominic 
approaches. 

"  Oh,  my  son,"  says  the  venerable  man,  "although  it  was 
but  yesterday  that  I  parted  from  thee,  yet  I  could  not  rest 
till  I  once  more  gave  thee  my  benediction.  If  ever  my  soul 


THE   ATONEMENT.  217 

was  encompassed  with  a  human  love,  it  is  for  thee,"  and  he 
embraced  Hugh  most  affectionately. 

Hugh  knelt  in  reverence  at  his  feet  to  receive  his  blessing. 
As  the  old  monk,  with  his  snow-white  beard  and  flowing 
garments,  stands  with  eyes  upraised  toward  Heaven  and 
hands  resting  on  the  head  of  the  kneeling  man  before  him, 
he  looks  like  some  priest  of  old,  offering  the  atoning  sacri- 
fice to  the  Great  Jehovah.  Silently  for  some  moments  he 
prays,  then,  as  his  supplications  become  more  fervent,  his 
voice  breaks  forth : 

"  Oh,  my  son,  may  God  forever  bless  thee,  and  thy  inten- 
tions. May  this,  thy  charity,  cover  the  multitude  of  thy 
transgressions;  and  may  He,  who  suffered  for  us  all,  in  His 
infinite  mercy,  rest  thee  on  His  loving  heart,  and  crown  thee 
with  the  diadem  of  victory!" 

Miriam  stands  like  a  statue,  incapable  of  speech  or  motion, 
until  Hugh,  rising  to  his  feet,  begins  his  preparations  for 
departure.  Soon  he  is  ready,  and  as  he  turns  his  steps  in 
the  direction  of  the  shore,  accompanied  by  Father  Dominic, 
Miriam  walks  by  his  side,  as  though  pushed  by  an  invisible 
power,  and  without  any  direction  of  her  own  will. 

"I  go,"  says  Hugh,  "prepared  to  bear  suffering,  and, 
dear  Father  and  brother  (as  pressing  the  hand  of  each),  I 
ask  your  prayers,  that  I  may  bear  all  without  a  murmur . 
But  I  think  I  shall  not  have  as  hard  a  time  as  I  had  before, 
for,  in  my  ramblings  in  that  quarter,  kind  Providence  has 
led  me  to  a  little  cave  where  there  is  water,  comparatively 
fresh.  It  will  still  be  burning  hot,  but  I  shall  find  protec- 
tion from  the  awful  wind." 

Hugh  has  spoken  his  parting  words  to  Father  Dominic, 
who  wrings  his  hand  in  a  tearful  silence,  and  turns  to 
Miriam. 

"  Howard,  my  boy,"  he  says,  "  good-by ! "  ( 

Miriam,  guided  by  an  impulse  which  she  cannot  control, 
suddenly  throws  her  arms  about  his  neck  and  imprints  kiss 
after  kiss  upon  his  lips,  and  then,  overcome  by  the  inten- 
sity of  her  emotions,  her  heart  ceases  to  pulsate,  and  she 


218  SACBIFICE. 

falls  insensible  into  his  arms.  Hugh  calls  in  frantic  haste 
for  Father  Dominic  to  hand  him  the  flask  of  water,  at  the 
same  time  tearing  the  white  linen  shirt  from  her  bosom. 
Now,  for  the  first  time,  does  the  truth  flash  across  his  mind, 
and  he  knows  that  he  holds  in  his  embrace  his  own  ever- 
faithful,  ever-loving  Miriam. 

Still  holding  her  inert  form  in  his  arms,  he  drops  upon 
his  knee,  exclaiming : 

"  Give  me  strength,  O  Lord,  to  bear  this,  the  heaviest 
trial  of  all!" 

Straining  her  to  his  heaving  breast,  he  pressed  a  burning 
kiss  upon  those  pallid  lips,  upturned  to  his.  The  blood  goes 
bounding  through  her  veins,  at  this,  and,  opening  her  eyes, 
she  looks  into  his.  From  the  love-light  which  she  there 
beholds,  she  knows  that  all  is  discovered.  Again  she  closes 
her  eyes,  as  if  to  remain  in  that  blissful  embrace  forever. 

"Is  it  a  woman,  my  son?"  asks  Father  Dominic,  as  he 
approaches  with  the  water. 

"Yes,  Father;  one  as  '  chaste  as  an  icicle  frozen  by  frosts 
of  purest  snow.'" 

The  events  of  the  past  few  months  are  rapidly  reviewed  in 
Miriam's  mind,  and  the  warning  words  of  the  old  man  of 
Masada  ring  in  her  ears  as  clear  and  distinct  as  the  tones  of 
the  church  bell  calling  man  to  prayer.  "Woe  be  unto  thee, 
if  thou  provest  false  to  him  and  to  thy  God  in  this  thing!" 

As  consciousness  fully  returns  she  gently  disengages  her- 
self from  his  embrace,  and  covered  with  blushes  and  con- 
fusion staggers  to  her  feet. 

"Hugh  Ashby,"  she  begins,  "I  know  you  will  hate  me — 
despise  me,  for  the  unmaidenly  manner  in  which  I  have 
come  to  you.  I  can  but  plead  my  love  as  an  excuse.  The 
hand  of  an  intelligence  higher  and  stronger  than  mine  has 
drawn  me  on.  That  fatal  ring  was  shown  me  in  my  own 
home,  and  I  saw  you  entering  the  doomed  city.  Something 
seemed  to  warn  me  that  I  was  wanted  here.  It  was  old 
Isaac  who  showed  me  the  ring  then.  Afterwards  he  saved 
me  from  the  shipwreck,  and,  thinking  my  family  all  lost,  I 


THE   ATONEMENT.  2191 

came  with  him  to  Jerusalem,  and  thence  here.  I  could  bear 
the  idea  of  death — I  could  take  your  place  and  suffer  the 
torments  of  Sodom — but  I  cannot,  oh,  Hugh,  I  cannot  bear 
the  thought  of  losing  your  respect,  your  love,  now  as  we  are 
about  to  be  separated  forever !" 

She  pours  forth  these  words  so  rapidly  and  vehemently 
that  Hugh  has  no  time  to  interrupt  their  flow.  Gathering 
her  once  more  in  his  arms,  he  exclaims : 

"  Blame  you,  dearest?  Oh,  Miriam,  how  I  love  you!  We 
have  both  been  led  on  by  the  hand  of  Destiny.  You  have 
suffered,  my  darling;  but  remember,  they  who  bear  the  bur- 
den and  are  true  unto  the  end,  will  reap  the  rich  reward. 
Do  not,  oh,  Miriam,  do  not,  for  your  soul's  salvation,  and 
for  mine,  ask  me  now  to  stay!  O  my  beloved,  how  weak  I  am 
when  you  are  near!"  And  the  strong  man  drops  his  head  upon 
her  shoulder  and  weeps.  His  stalwart  form  is  shaken,  like 
the  giant  oak  in  the  whirlwind,  by  great  convulsive  sobs. 
Again  does  the  full  weight  of  the  burden  seem  to  fall  upon 
Miriam.  Will  she  rise  superior  to  herself  and  of  her  own  free 
will  give  him  up  to  such  a  fate?  Oh,  the  struggle  in  that 
breast.  Her  tongue  cleaves  to  the  roof  of  her  mouth  and  she 
utters  no  word.  Presently  Hugh  recovers  himself  and 
speaks : 

"  Miriam,  hell  yawns  beneath  our  feet!  We  must  be 
strong.  Good-by!  great,  noble  heart,  good-by!" 

A  shower  of  kisses  fall  upon  her  brow,  and  he  leaps  into 
the  boat  and  steams  across  the  sea,  leaving  Miriam  and  the 
old  monk  standing  alone  upon  the  shore.  They  watch  the 
little  craft  in  silence  until  it  becomes  a  mere  speck  in  the 
distance,  and  then  the  good  Father  says : 

"  Child,  it  is  time  we  were  leaving  this  place.  The  Arabs 
await  thee  impatiently."  Bancroft  Library 

"I  leave  not  this  shore,  reverend  Father,  till  I  have  seen 
more,"  she  answers.  "I  will  climb  yonder  mountain,  while 
it  is  yet  light,  and  I  shall  abide  in  David's  cave  till  all  is 
over.  The  elevation  is  high,  and  the  winds  surely  cannot 
reach  me  there.  At  least,  I  will  try  it." 


220  SACRIFICE. 

"It  is  useless,  my  child.  Thou  hadst  better  save  all  thy 
strength  to  pray  for  him  who  offers  himself  as  this  terrible 
holocaust." 

' '  It  is  useless  to  argue  with  me,  Father.  Sometimes  a 
lifetime  of  prayer  can  be  compressed  into  a  single  moment. 
Time  is  precious.  I  go ! " 

Miriam  makes  her  way  back  to  the  camp,  with  ears  deaf- 
ened to  the  remonstrances  of  the  good  old  monk.  She  dis- 
misses the  Arabs,  telling  them  to  return  for  her  the  day 
after  the  storm,  as  she  will  remain  alone  on  the  mountain. 
Eeluctantly  do  they  and  Father  Dominic  leave  her,  and 
slowly  wend  their  way  up  the  ravine.  Constantly  does 
the  old  man  look  back,  hoping  to  see  some  motion  beckon- 
ing him  to  return.  Miriam  Howard  is  alone  in  that  dreary 
waste — alone  in  her  desolation ! 

1 '  There  is  no  danger,"  she  says,  bitterly,  to  herself.  "  No 
danger  from  adders  or  scorpions,  for  they,  too,  have  gone. 
No  living  thing  is  near  this  accursed  spot  but  my  love  and  I, 
and  this  sea  of  Death  divides  us!" 

Night  is  gently  folding  the  earth  in  her  embrace,  and 
Miriam  slowly  and  wearily  ascends  the  perilous  path  towards 
the  upper  fountain.  She  sits  down  on  a  small  grassy  plat, 
and  beneath  the  blooming  oleanders  she  spends  the  night, 
though  she  sleeps  not.  The  cave  is  near  by,  but  she  will 
not  enter  it  unless  forced  to  do  so.  The  sun  rises  and  she 
hears  the  winds  below  her,  and  sees  the  waves  dashing 
against  the  shore,  but  she  feels  them  not.  It  seems,  indeed, 
as  if  the  Almighty  has  tempered  the  wind  to  His  shorn  lamb. 
All  the  day  long  does  she  sit  beside  that  beautiful  little 
fountain— the  Diamond  in  the  Desert,  as  the  Crusaders 
called  it.  She  sits,  trying  in  vain  to  catch  a  glimpse  of  the 
other  shore.  Towards  nightfall  she  stretches  her  weary 
limbs  upon  the  grass,  and  sleep  breathes  upon  her,  and  for 

the  time  she  knows  no  more. 

*  #•  *•  #•  -x-  *  * 

The  roaring  of  the  waters  become  still,  the  winds  cease 
their  moaning,  and  all  Nature  is  as  hushed  as  though  the 


THE  ATONEMENT.  221 

Almighty  were  about  to  speak.  A  light,  soft  and  effulgent 
as  a  sparkle  from  the  Divine  eye  when  beaming  with  pleas- 
ure on  the  good  works  of  His  creatures,  illumines  the  scene. 
Miriam  arises  to  her  feet  and  looks  around  her.  Where  the 
sea  had  been  there  was  now  no  water,  but  in  its  stead  there 
were  stately  forests  and  waving  fields  of  corn.  Filled  with 
surprise  at  this  enchanting  scene,  she  walks  towards  it,  but 
instead  of  the  tortuous  path  by  which  she  had  ascended  to 
this  lofty  height,  there  spreads  before  her  a  gentle  declivity 
covered  with  verdure  and  dotted  with  fragrant  flowers,  over 
which  there  skips  and  plays  a  thousand  lambs.  In  the  dis- 
tance the  towers  of  a  magnificent  city  arise. 

"This,"  she  says  to  herself,  "is  Sodom.  I  will  go  and 
meet  Hugh." 

She  seems  to  have  borrowed  the  agility  of  the  fawn,  and,, 
as  she  passes  fields  of  golden  grain  and  herds  of  lowing 
cattle,  distance  seems  annihilated.  She  falls  in  with  crowds 
of  people  hurrying  on  to  the  city.  All  seem  laden  with 
something  for  the  market.  Now  a  leautiful  river  is  before 
her,  clear,  placid  and  bright,  as  was  the  Jordan  before  the 
dreadful  curse  fell  upon  it.  On  the  opposite  bank  stands  the 
city.  A  bridge  of  stone  spans  the  stream,  with  but  a  single 
arch.  Mingling  with  the  crowd,  she  walks  across  it,  and 
stands  in  the  streets  of  Sodom.  Massive  buildings  of  brick 
or  stone,  with  walls  several  feet  in  thickness,  are  on  either 
side  of  the  street.  She  sees  an  immense  palace,  by  the  side 
of  which  all  modern  structures  dwindle  into  insignificance. 
Just  beyond  this  is  a  grand  public  square,  and  she  beholds, 
placed  in  its  centre,  the  King,  seated  on  a  throne  of  gold, 
which  sparkles  with  a  million  gems.  To  this  grand  centre 
do  the  people  seem  to  flock,  and  she  goes,  too,  apparently 
unnoticed  or  unseen  by  them.  She  awaits  in  wrapt  atten- 
tion. Presently,  at  a  point  directly  opposite  to  where  she 
stands,  the  crowd  opens,  and  through  the  avenue  thus 
formed  walks  Hugh  Ashby  and  the  beautiful  woman  of  his 
vision — Sara.  They  are  hand  in  hand,  and  just  behind  them 
comes  Isaac — no  longer  as  the  little  old  Jew,  but  tall  and 


222  BA.CBIPICE. 

erect,  as  she  had  seen  him  once  in  her  imagination,  when 
he  held  the  magic  ring  for  her  inspection.  All  eyes  are  on 
the  group,  and  every  voice  is  hushed.  As  the  king  sees  them 
he  motions  them  to  approach,  and  descends  from  his  jeweled 
seat  to  meet  them.  Taking  Hugh  by  the  hand,  he  leads  him 
up  the  steps  of  the  throne,  and  then,  removing  his  crown 
and  other  emblems  of  royalty,  he  again  descends  and  min- 
gles with  the  multitude. 

Hugh  stands  with  his  feet  resting  upon  the  jewelled  seat, 
so  that  all  may  see  him.  He  speaks.  As  that  voice  breaks 
upon  Miriam's  ear,  every  fibre  of  her  being  is  thrilled  with  a 
delicious  agony.  Bending  eagerly  forward  she  stands,  fear- 
ing to  lose  a  single  sound  that  falls  from  his  lips.  He 
reminds  the  people  of  the  angel's  promise  to  Sara,  and 
avows  his  own  intention  of  suffering  in  their  stead,  until 
their  atonement  shall  be  completed.  He  tells  them  of  the 
life  and  sufferings  of  the  Son  of  God,  by  which 

"  In  adamantine  chains  shall  death  be  bound, 
And  hell's  grim  tyrant  feel  the  eternal  wound." 

He  holds  up  the  signet  by  which  they  are  all  to  know  that 
he  is  the  one  promised  by  the  angel.  At  first  no  change  is 
seen  except  a  flash  from  those  wonderful  eyes;  but  gradually 
it  grows,  until  the  serpent,  seeming  to  leave  his  hand, 
encompasses  the  very  throne,  and  from  its  mouth  pours  forth 
a  stream  of  fire.  Then  in  the  midst  of  this  a  cross  arises,  and 
the  serpent  hangs  thereon.  Now  it  fades,  and  the  image  of 
the  Saviour,  the  Man  of  Sorrows,  appears  in  its  place  upon 
the  cross,  and  Hugh  explains  that  "as  Moses  lifted  up  the 
serpent  in  the  desert  so  must  the  Son  of  Man  be  lifted  up ; 
that  whosoever  believeth  in  Him  may  not  perish,  but  have 
everlasting  life."* 

Thousands  bow  down  and  worship,  and  Miriam  is  aston- 
ished that  they  do  not  all  do  so;  but  there  are  those  who 

scoff  and   mock  at  the  sacred  scene,  and  will  not  accept  the 
.salvation  offered  them. 


*8t.  Johniii:  15,  16. 


THE   ATONEMENT.  223 

"O  God!"  Miriam  prays,  "forgive  them;  they  know  not 
what  they  do!" 

Hugh  makes  one  last  powerful  appeal;  but  the  scoffers  are 
as  deaf  as  those  whom  we  daily  see,  who  mock  at  God's  holy 
Word,  and  listen  not  to  the  voice  of  His  ministers.  "It  is 
not  according  to  my  philosophy,"  say  they. 

Sara  approaches  Hugh,  and  he  takes  from  her  arms  an 
urn,  and  throwing  its  contents  high  in  the  air  pronounces 
the  words  of  Baptism.  The  water  glistens  in  the  light  like 
a  rainbow,  reflecting  the  smile  of  God.  Then  in  gentle 
showers  it  descends  upon  tl/e  people.  All  those  who  have 
bowed  in  humble  adoration  now  join  in  one  grand  hallelujah 
of  praise  to  God.  "Holy!  Holy!  Holy!  Lord  God,"  they 
cry.  "Praised  and  blessed  forever  be  Thy  goodness  and 
mercy  unto  men!" 

Mingled  with  these  sounds  of  rejoicing  are  the  awful 
blasphemies  of  those  who  have  turned  from  the  salvation 
before  them. 

He  whom  Miriam  has  known  as  Isaac  approaches  Hugh. 

"Near  four  thousand  times  have  I  fled  this  city — and  I 
could  find  no  rest,  till  one  should  be  found  willing  and 
worthy  to  carry  the  serpent  of  Moses  and  the  Cross  into 
Sodom.  Now,  shall  my  wife  be  freed  from  her  bondage  in 
the  salty  pillar,  and  I  can  find  rest  in  Abraham's  bosom," 
And  he  and  all  the  others  of  the  redeemed  seem  to  vanish 
from  Miriam's  sight.  Hugh  and  Sara  stand  alone  at  the  foot 
of  the  cross,  which  has  taken  the  place  of  the  earthly  throne. 
All  this  while  there  were  those  who  continued  in  the  wicked- 
ness of  Sodom.  They  had  eyes  to  see  God's  mercy,  but  saw 
it  not;  they  had  ears  to  hear  His  word,  but  they  would  not 
listen. 

Now  a  voice,  as  from  the  Cross,  is  heard:  "Well  done, 
thou  good  and  faithful  servant.  Because  of  thy  good  will, 
thy  sins  are  forgiven  thee;  and  this  day  shalt  thou  abide 
with  me  in  Paradise." 

Sara  kneels  at  Hugh's  feet  and  says,  "And,  now,  me!" 


224  SACRIFICE. 

"Child  of  suffering,"  lie  says,  in  sweetest  accents,  "it  is 
decreed  that  thou  shalt  not  die;  but,  as  thou  art,  thou  shalt 
ascend  to  the  heaven  thou  longest  for.  But  I  must  die! 
Console  thou  my  Miriam." 

Now  comes  the  dread  thunders  of  Heaven's  wrath !  The 
wicked  ones  stand  appalled,  and  then  cry  for  mercy!  mercy! 
But  now  it  is  too  late.  The  wailing  and  gnashing  of  teeth 
is  more  terrible  than  ever  Sodom  heard  before,  for  now  they 
have  rejected  the  last  offer  of  mercy,  and  hope  is  forever  lost. 

The  city  is  sinking — slowly  sinking.  Miriam  stands  par- 
alyzed with  terror.  "With  a  loud  crash  the  vast  edifices 
reared  by  the  pride  of  man  come  toppling  to  the  ground — 
all  vanishes,  save  the  wicked  ones,  praying  when  it  is  too  late  ! 
TOO  LATE!  !  She  looks  for  Hugh.  He  still  stands  at  the  foot 
of  the  Cross,  embracing  it,  and,  with  eyes  upraised,  beaming 
with  adoration.  The  Figure  thereon  seems  to  smile  upon 
him,  and  as  the  blood  drips  from  those  wounds  and  falls  upon 
his  garments,  they  are  changed,  and  shine  with  a  refulgent 
light.  One  drop  of  that  precious  blood  rests  upon  his  fore- 
head and ,  forms  the  living,  sparkling  crown  with  which 
Jesus  adorns  the  brows  of  His  saints.  Miriam  calls  aloud : 
"Hugh!  Hugh!  save  me!"  He  turns  and  smiles  upon  her, 
and  Sara  glides  to  her  side. 

"  Sister  in  suffering,"  she  said,  "I  must  lead  thee  hence. 
Come!  The  waters  are  rising  fast.  Fear  not,  be  of  good 
faith,  and  I  will  hold  thee  up !  What  follows  is  not  for  thine 
eye !  Kemember  Lot's  wife,  and  look  not  back ! "  And  throw- 
ing her  arm  around  Miriam's  waist,  they  glide  swiftly  over 
the  calm,  smooth  surface  of  the  sea — all  the  while  the  curses 
and  lamentations  of  the  lost  sounding  in  their  ears. 

Ascending  the  mountain  side,  once  more  Miriam  is  by  the 
beautiful  fountain.  She  is  weary,  and  sits  down  to  rest. 
Sara  kisses  her  fondly  on  lip,  cheek  and  eyes,  saying:  "Sleep, 

my  sister;  thou  needest  rest." 

$*:#'"#*'** 

The  sun  had  scarcely  risen  in  the  morning  after  the  storm, 
when  Father  Dominic  and  the  faithful  band  of  Arabs  gather 


THE  ATONEMENT.  225 

on  the  sea  shore  at  Ain  Jidy.  All  is  quiet.  Not  a  word  is 
spoken,  for  a  feeling  of  expectation  is  upon  them  all.  The 
good  Father  looks  up  towards  fche  fountain,  and  sees  Miriam 
coming  slowly  and  laboriously  down.  Soon  she  approaches 
them,  and  the  feeble,  halting  step,  and  death-like  pallor  of 
face  and  brow  tell  the  tale  of  that  night  of  anguish.  As  the 
old  monk  sees  these  signs  of  suffering,  his  tender  heart  is 
moved  and  the  tears  gush  from  his  venerable  eyes.  With 
hands  outstretched,  he  hurriedly  goes  to  meet  her. 

"Oh,  my  child,"  he  says,  "how  fares  it  withthee?" 

"Father,"  she  replies,  in  low,  weak  tones,  "all  is  over!  I 
have  seen  it  all!  Not  long  shall  we  be  separated,  for  soon  I 
go  to  meet  him ! "  and  she  pours  into  his  sympathizing  ear 
the  events  of  the  past  night.  While  yet  she  is  speaking,  a 
floating  object  drifts  slowly  towards  them  on  the  surface  of 
the  dark,  still  waters. 

"There,"  exclaims  Miriam,  in  loud,  excited  tones;  "there 
is  Hugh  Ashby's  body  coming  to  me ! " 

As  though  wafted  by  invisible  hands,  it  floats  directly  to 
them;  a  gentle  wave  throws  him  at  their  feet,  and  Miriam 
embraces  the  lifeless  form  of  her  lover.  Down  upon  their 
knees,  upon  those  burning  sands,  do  they  all  fall  and  pour 
forth  their  souls  in  the  deep,  fervent  prayer  of  sorrow.  Long 
they  had  knelt  in  the  burning  sun,  when  Father  Dominic, 
arising,  said  to  Miriam : 

"Come,  my  child,  we  must  remove  his  body,  and  give  it 
the  burial  befitting  the  Christian  hero." 

Miriam  lifts  her  haggard  face  from  her  lover's  bosom  and 
says: 

' '  Do  you  not  see  that  I  am  dying  ?  Bury  our  bodies  up 
there  by  the  fountain.  My  people  have  mourned  me  as  dead, 
and  it  is  well  they  mourn  not  twice.  Care  for  my  poor  Lea — 
she  is  the  last  of  Lot's  children." 

Again  she  embraces  the  dead  form  of  her  lover,  imprints  a 
kiss  upon  those  cold  lips,  and  her  pure  spirit  has  fled  to  Him 
who  gave  it  life. 


•-• 


